


Haunted

by Nellblazer



Category: Constantine (TV), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Hellblazer, Justice League Dark (Comics), Swamp Thing (TV 2019)
Genre: Demons, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Ghosts, Haunted Arc, Heaven & Hell, Louisiana, Louisiana Voodoo vibe, Magic, Slow Burn, Spirit World, Tarot, Touch-Starved, Vampires, Voodoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:29:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22853254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nellblazer/pseuds/Nellblazer
Summary: After breaking into an abandoned air raid shelter, you see something that drags you into John Constantine’s world. Sad for you that it gets you killed. Even worse for you that your ghost latches onto Constantine because who really wants to spend the afterlife watching him smoke and drink himself into an early grave?
Relationships: John Constantine/Reader, John Constantine/You
Comments: 60
Kudos: 225





	1. Six Feet Underground

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the start of a new series!
> 
> Warnings: Violence, death, graphic description
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)
> 
> \- TLP xx

Perhaps it wasn't your greatest idea to break into an abandoned air raid shelter.

You'd already grazed yourself on the barbed wire fence, the rusted spikes pricking through your thin tights and ripping them to shreds. You'd had to tear them off yourself completely after the ragged nylon kept catching on the overgrown plants shrouding the entrance.

After a bit of elbow grease, the boards over the door popped off as you leant on the crowbar and the way was finally open. You were blasted by the smell of old musty air and the scent of damp and you recoiled a little bit, clicking your torchlight on and getting your phone ready to take pictures.

You duck in, appreciating that the tunnel down into the sandstone opened up more so you can stand straight.

The entrances were filled with the remnants of explorers, of the homeless, of those who left needles and tinfoil behind. You recognised some of the wrappers as being years old, vintage.

When you got into the main cavern, the metal frames of bunkbeds were visible as they stretched down the hallways, trunks by each one that had corroded from years of abandonment. On one of the walls you could make out the old tin posters advertising cigarettes and Oxo cubes, faded and dusty.

You snapped a few pictures, framing it just right to get the illusion of the hallways never ending, stretching into darkness. These would be perfect.

You walked a little further in, feeling the temperature change and the moisture clinging to your hair. It was a little harder to breathe now but not too uncomfortable.

Now you found a kitchen area with pots that were thrown everywhere and raided pantries. It might have even been stylish at one time.

You took it upon yourself to tidy up, to rearrange before taking your photo and as you looked at the back of the screen, something struck you as odd.

It was completely blurred. A strange white mist covered the entire shot.

It was probably a case of dust mites, you told yourself. The atmosphere was very close after all.

When you tried again, there was less coverage but the mist was more opaque in one spot.

“What the hell?” you say out loud, hearing your voice echo around you.

The next time you took a picture, your heart missed a beat.

Looking at the screen, you saw the image of a man who looked painfully starved, his cheeks collapsing in on his skull and hollowed eyes. He was dressed in several layers that all looked ragged and unkempt.

You looked up quickly, expecting to see something but....there was nothing.

Surely had to have imagined it....right?

You took another picture of the empty space in front of you and when the image had loaded back up, you nearly dropped the phone in surprise to see the man was now closer to you.

Your head snapped up to see the very figure almost a nose's width away and you shrieked, stumbling backwards before legging it back up the hallway towards the entrance.

Something gets under your feet and you trip, falling hard on the unforgiving ground as, what feel like fingers start dragging you backwards. You try to kick whatever has you but it's no use. Then you try holding onto something but your fingers just uselessly scrabble at rock, scraping your skin as you're pulled further back in.

“HELP ME!” you scream, knowing no one will probably answer.

If you died right now, no one would even know where you were. All those dangerous expeditions for the perfect photograph, the best Instagram blog theme....now it would finally kill you.

“HELP!”

You're almost back to the kitchen and you hear footsteps from the other way. Someone was running.

“Hold on!” a Liverpudlian accent reaches you.

Sharp points start tearing into your legs and you're howling in pain, twisting around to see the ragged man leaning over you, broken and browned teeth bared. You could smell the decay, cloying in the back of your throat.

His long nails are piercing into your chest, like he's determined to rip your heart out and all you can do is beat at him, flailing madly but you can't shake him off. He's unnaturally heavy.

The footsteps are nearly with you and you give a cry of anguish as the nails dig deeper, searing white pain sending your nerves jangling.

“Bloody fucking hell!” the man says as he reaches you before chanting something you don't understand and your attacker is wrenched away from you. “Move, lass! Run!”

You're in shock still, your rescuer accidentally kicking the torch as he moves in front of you and sends the light spinning so you only see fragments of what's happening.

“MOVE, YOU STUPID BINT!” the man yells at you before you finally are able to get to your feet.

You can't run fast, your legs ache and bleed every time you take a step but you're almost out of the kitchen when you're flung into the shelving unit on the side, your back bruising instantly before you fall awkwardly to the floor, something cracking in your foot.

You knew you'd broken something but there was no time to dwell on it.

In the spinning torchlight, the gaunt man's face was morphing into something rotten and putrid. You couldn't make out much of your saviour other than a trenchcoat and aggressively blond hair.

Something was set on fire before the entire shelter started vibrating, dust falling from the ceiling and getting in your eyes. You furiously rubbed them but they were streaming, the particles clinging to your eyeballs.

“JESUS CHRIST, DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH?!” the blond man screams at you. “GET OUT!”

You take one more step back and an unseen force knocks you flat, dragging you back and past the man towards whatever the fuck was trying to kill you. Hands grab onto your wrists, keeping you in place and now the two are playing tug of war with your body.

“Don't let me go!” you yell to the blond man as the gaunt man advances upon you, prostrate between your saviour and the supernatural force.

“Fuck!” the blond man swears. “I need to let you go for one second otherwise we're both toast. I need me 'ands for doing spellwork.”

“Spellwork?!” you look back at him, seeing he was fairly young.

“Is now the time to be bloody questioning the mystical and weird?!” he cocks an eyebrow. “Hold on for thirty seconds, luv. This is gonna get hairy.”

And he let's you go.

You smack into the stove, feeling your ankle break as it fires into life, flames starting to melt the bottom of your shoes.

“HURRY UP!” you shriek, desperately trying to keep your feet from going into the flames.

Something wholly demonic growls and hisses behind you, like a wounded animal that's making a last stand. You don't dare take your eyes off the stove as the force keeps trying to push your legs into it.

The bottom of your soles have melted away and you can feel your feet starting to burn. All the while the chanting is going on behind you.

With a final flourish, you're tossed like a ragdoll into the ceiling which dazes you as you thump back to earth and you're pulled up to a standing position, your ankle lolling weirdly underneath your weight.

“No no NO!” the blond man begs as you feel ice cold fingers clamp around your skull. “Leave her alone!”

“Finish that spell and I snap her neck,” a deep voice, a low rumble from right by your ear. “You shouldn't have come here, Constantine.”

“Yeah yeah, I get it,” the man called Constantine holds his hands up. “Look, just leave the lass and come have a go if you think you're 'ard enough. It's _me_ you want. _I'm_ the one killing off your hunting grounds.”

“You need an example set,” something slimy and cool licks up the curve of your ear and you start whimpering unashamedly.

You were more scared than you'd ever been in your life.

“No I don't,” Constantine points a finger at you. “Let her come with me and I'll bugger off. You can keep this place for your drunks and smackheads who come wandering in. Alright?”

“Please, let me go,” your voice sounds reedy and weak as you plead.

“No, I'm _tired_ of degenerates. This soul is youthful and bright,” another rasp behind you. “Offer me something more.”

“I'll piss off from this town entirely,” Constantine throws out there. “Just let the lass live.”

The fingers recede from your face and the presence behind you moves away. You want to cry in relief as you tentatively start walking towards the man called Constantine before there was a rush, a firm grip and your head was violently wrenched to one side.

“BASTARD!” Constantine roars above you.

You're still alive, paralysed on the floor and unable to speak. It felt like you were suffocating, drowning in nothing and the feeling was monstrous. You couldn't even panic, you were just acutely aware of your heart rate slowing.

There was a flash of light, an ear piercing scream and then you were being turned over. You couldn't quite feel the touch like you used to.

“I'm sorry,” Constantine's face looms into view. “I'm so sorry, luv. There's nothing I can do. I can't fix something like this.”

You could move your lips but no air was coming out to make words or sounds. You were just silently dying.

“I'll stay with you until the end,” he takes your hand, holding it so tightly his knuckles were turning white. “You're not alone, darlin'. I've got you.”

You didn't want to die but you couldn't scream that thought out into the world. Your vision was dimming and you knew this was it.

This wasn't fair. It wasn't your time yet. You didn't want to go.

“I'm here. Johnny's got you, luv,” Constantine says soothingly. “Flip the big guy off when you get to Heaven and tell 'im John Constantine thinks he's a cunt for letting you die.”

You couldn't see any more, it was pitch black. There was a moment of coldness, like you'd been submerged in an icy bath before your vision came back....only you were standing to the side of Constantine, looking down at your own body.

“I can't believe I got killed for an aesthetic. What a fucking moron I was,” you sigh.

Constantine's head shoots up to look at you, his eyes wide and shadowed in the torchlight, “You what?! Strewth, don't tell me you tried to cling onto life, you silly girl?! Cross over!”

“You can see me?!” you step back.

“'Course I bloody can. I see every ghost that stays here.”

“Ghost? I'm a....” you look down at yourself and you seem corporeal. “I can still see me. I'm not-”

“-Transparency is a myth,” he stands up. “You'll still feel like you're you but no one can ever see you except certain folks. You'll never be able to interact with anyone. Cross over before you become as barmy as that bastard I just had to exorcise.”

“I don't want to.”

“Listen, don't be a stubborn bird, alright? Trust me, it's not worth clinging to this shithole of an existence,” he brushes his hair back where it springs back into an unruly mess. “You'll be forever tied down here and this ain't exactly the ghost Ritz. Just let go.”

“So if I try to leave the shelter?”

“You won't get past the door,” he answers bluntly. “I'll bring your body back to somewhere where you can be found but you need to move on. I am right sorry you ended up dead, lass, I really am but I can't help you now.”

“You didn't help me before either,” you narrow your eyes sourly.

“Oi! _I'm_ not the fucking moron that broke into a haunted World War Two shelter! What the hell were you doing in here anyway?”

“Taking pictures.”

“Oh great,” he rolls his eyes. “An urban explorer. Was it worth it? Getting killed over a few likes on a blog?”

“You know, you were nicer to me when I was dying.”

“Aye, I was being polite,” he scowls. “Giving you some comfort. Didn't have to, you know.”

“Just...just put me somewhere visible,” you gesture to your body.

“Alright, alright,” he picks up your corpse and slings it over his shoulder before stooping to grab the flashlight. “You can walk with me to the entrance but after that, go to wherever is next for you.”

You follow him in resolute silence, transfixed by the horrific spectacle of your lifeless body swinging as he walks, the hair swishing with each step. It was still hard for you to comprehend.

The daylight was invading the tunnel more and more and finally you got to the main entrance, fully seeing him for the first time.

“At least someone handsome tried to rescue me,” you attempt to make a joke.

“Aye, anything for a pretty girl. Shame really,” he regards you as he steps over the threshold. “Just wish you coulda been smarter as well.”

“Hey!” you march forward. “How was I to know a fucking murderous ghost was down there?”

He's just staring at you, wide eyed and almost fearful. You wonder what the hell has him so spooked before you realise you've also stepped out from the entrance and nothing's happened.

“Thought you said I couldn't come out,” you look down at the grass beneath your feet.

“I did,” he swallows before swearing under his breath.

“What? What's going on?”

“Oh no,” he backs up. “No no no no no.....this can't be happening.”

“WHAT?!”

“Your soul, your spirit,” his tone is barely a whisper. “It didn't attach to the shelter. It attached to _me_.”

“So what does that mean?”

“Unless you move on, luv, you're stuck with me until I die....and I'm semi-immortal,” he runs a hand over his face, dragging the skin down. “Oh fucking great. Exactly what I need.”

“Okay well I'll try and move on then,” you shrug. “How do I do that?”

“Just feel like you're drifting through clouds, like you're lifting from the ground. Think of stars and the sky. Think of your loved ones waiting.”

You try for a good while, feeling stupider by the second until he actually whines, dropping your body by accident.

“It's not working, is it lass?” he buries his face in his hands.

“I don't think so, no.”

“Ahhh fucking hell!”

“So you mean I have to haunt you for the rest of your life?”

“If it's the last thing I do, luv, I'll either make you cross over or I'll get you back in your body because John Constantine does not do ghost sidekicks.”

He picks up your corpse again and slings it over his shoulder before moving to a row of empty cars nearby. You feel compelled to follow, like you weren't able to stay put and you walk in step with him down the country lane, wondering exactly what was going to happen now.

Maybe it would've been better if you'd died outright.


	2. Should I Stay or Should I Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuck with you haunting him, John tries desperately to get rid of you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mild angst, nudity
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)
> 
> \- TLP xx

You still couldn't get used to seeing your body just dangling like that from his shoulder. There was a horrible clicking every time your neck twisted slightly that made you want to curl up in your own....

Well....you didn't have skin any more, you guess.

John was striding determinedly ahead, not even looking at you as he got to a black cab where a man with a baker boy cap was snoozing in the driver's seat. He woke up with a start when John opened the rear door.

“Blimey, that were fast,” the man says, wiping his face free from the drool that had tracked down his chin.

“Bit of a complication, mate,” John sighs, turning around so the man could see your corpse.

“Please tell me she's just fainted.”

“Dead more like it.”

“Before the ghost or after?”

“After...more like she was in me way when I tried to get rid of it and didn't get out in time.”

“Fucking hell, John. She probably had a family!”

“Chas, button it, alright? I've heard it all before.”

He dumps your body into the footwell without much care and you feel pure rage at the disrespectful treatment.

“HEY!” you yell. “Be careful with me!”

“Oh like you were so careful with your own bloody life?” he fires back at you, tucking your legs in.

The man called Chas looks around wildly, “Are you talking to me?”

“No I'm talking to the stupid bird who's dead and is haunting me,” John sighs.

“There ain't no one there, John.”

“She's stood in front of your taxi.”

“I can normally see spirits though?”

“Well I don't sodding know, do I?!” John loses his temper. “Sixty odd years of this and I still don't have a fucking clue how the paranormal works.”

“Keep your hair on, I'll take your word for it,” Chas hold up his hands defensively. “So why is she attached to you?”

“Did you not just hear me?”

“Blimey, who pissed in your cornflakes today?”

“Oh shut up!”

“I'm not thrilled about this either you know,” you chime in.

“You can shut up n' all,” he points at you. “Get in the taxi. I need to get back to me flat and freeze you before you start decaying.”

You do as you're told, mainly because you're in completely new territory here. You didn't even think ghosts could sit until you do exactly that in the back of the taxi.

“What was her name?” Chas looks back from the rear view mirror.

“Don't know, don't care to know,” John shrugs. “Don't wanna get attached when I could exorcise her to heaven or some such.”

“So you're just going to address me as.....?” you ask.

“Ghost. That's all you're getting,” he shakes his head at you. “Trust me, luv, tried bonding with a spirit once and it was just bad vibes and heartbreak all round. Best not to know too much about you.”

“And what if you get me back in my body?”

“Then you can introduce yourself to me properly.”

“This is weird hearing one side of the conversation,” Chas gives a pained look. “Sure there's no way I can see her or hear her?”

“She won't be here long so no point.”

“Jesus you are a moody bastard today, John,” he scowls.

“It never gets easier seeing pretty bits of skirt die around me all the time, you know,” John ruffles his hair anxiously. “A therapist would have a ruddy field day with my PTSD.”

The two men fall into tense silence and you, in turn, try to look anywhere but at yourself on the floor, packed in like a Russian doll. This would be almost comical if you weren't the one stuck here with only a grumpy Scouse apparent wizard who could see you.

You reach a run down council estate where Chas pulls around the back of the flats, getting out and grabbing some sheets from the boot of the taxi. The both of them wrap your body up before smuggling you up the stairs to the first floor and hastily pulling out all the freezer shelves before manipulating your corpse into the tiny space where it looked like you were squatting at an awkward angle.

“Attractive,” you sigh at yourself.

“Hey, I'm giving up me favourite ice cream to keep you fresh, darlin'. Least you can do is be a bit grateful,” John hisses.

“This is too bizarre for me,” Chas shakes his head. “I'm going home. Text me if whatever scheme you do works out.”

“We still on for the pub later?” John shucks out of the trenchcoat.

“Not tonight. Geri had an emergency so we're babysitting Trish.”

“Alright, be boring and domestic. Off you go,” John shooes him out. “I've got spellwork to do.”

Now you were alone in the, desperately messy, flat with him and you automatically try to shut the freezer door so you don't have to see yourself in this state but your hand goes right through it uselessly.

“Don't like looking at yourself?” John guesses.

“I just look so....broken. It's disturbing.”

“Aye, let me,” he walks to the door and closes it and now you can almost pretend you're alive and a normal person. “Listen, if I'm being a right twat about things, it's because this is new to me. Never had a spirit attach itself to me and never been the sole person to see said spirit before. I don't like when I can't understand things.”

“I get it,” you shrug. “So you're a wizard right?”

“Wizard?” he coughs in surprise before bursting out laughing. “Lass, do I look like I go to Hogwarts?”

“Don't be mean. I don't know anything about this world.”

“I'm not a wizard. I'm a magus. Magic wasn't already in me, I learnt it over many years. Any cunt with half a brain can if they're dedicated enough. Anyway, I shouldn't be talking to you. I need to get on with me spells.”

He leaves the room just as you found you had ten more questions to ask. The more time you spent in his company, the more arrogant and rude you found him. Maybe it was a good thing he was helping you move on in some shape or form.

You watch him as he sets up countless sigils, burns a lot of strange looking plants and mutters things to himself with his eyes rolled back. Every time it doesn't appear to work, he gets increasingly agitated until he flings a bowl of salt at the door where it breaks and cascades all over the floor.

“FUCK!” he shouts, the sound reverberating off the wall. “Why is nothing working?!”

It was already dark by this point, hours had gone by where you were sat on his kitchen countertop, watching this disaster of a human being.

“Maybe you don't know the right spell yet?” you offer.

“If I don't know the spell for this, it doesn't bloody exist,” he spits, storming over to you and glaring into your eyes. “What the hell are you that you won't leave me alone?”

“How should I know? I only found out the paranormal was real this morning.”

“Nah nah nah, there's got to be something about you, something unusual that means you won't cross over or return to yourself. I've just run through every single cultural spell I've ever known and you didn't even get a hair out of place. This is fucking bollocks.”

He bows his head in defeat before taking a deep breath and meeting your gaze again, “I need....I need to ask you about your personal life.”

“Oh _now_ it's fine to acknowledge me as a person?” you roll your eyes.

“You're right. I'm sorry, you're right. It's just.....a bird I used to love ended up dead and tied to a place and it was hard for me to get over her when I could go see her every day...until she faded into a lunatic like that bloke in the air raid shelter. Ghosts go mad pretty easily and I don't want to start to get fond of you any time soon only for you to go full Poltergeist on me.”

“God forbid you start to like me,” you sigh. “But I get it. I still don't fully comprehend this all because it still feels like I have a body and thoughts and emotions and stuff but we'll figure it out together.”

“I need to go to bed. Me head's bangin',” he clutches his temples. “Let's carry on tomorrow. I'll stick the telly on so you're not bored rigid in the night.”

“Fine by me.”

He walks to the farthest room away to get settled in. You, meanwhile, feel this great pulling urge like you did back on the road. The more you ignored it, the more painful it got and the feeling built and built until...

Pop!

You appeared in John's bedroom, just as he was taking off his boxers with his back to you, stark bollock naked now.

“Jesus!” you cry and he jumps around in fright, falling over trying to cover himself.

“FUCKING HELL!” he clutches the bed covers to himself tightly. “Are you a Peeping Tom or what?!”

“I couldn't help it!” you protest. “I just appeared here! The longer you were gone, the more it hurt.”

“You're not supposed to feel pain?” he says quizzically, moving towards you and temporarily forgetting his lack of clothing. “You've got to be something more than a spirit then.”

You've already looked down before you can help it, at the sizeable package between his legs before your eyes go to the ceiling, desperately trying to keep some civility.

“You just looked, didn't you, lass?” comes the dry remark.

“It's right there, I couldn't help it,” you keep your gaze skywards.

“You are a perv then,” you can tell he's smirking. “Like what you see?”

“Not bad.”

“Not bad?!” his ego was wounded. “You're lucky you're not corporeal or I'd spank the shit outta you for that.”

“Like to see you try.”

“Christ, don't get me worked up. You're not Patrick Swayze and I'm not Demi Moore. This isn't gonna happen physically, more's the pity.”

“You'd better be nice to me then because if you're the only one who can see me, I can whisper all sorts of things in your ear when you're in public.”

You met his eyes and saw in your peripheral vision his cock getting harder and twitching. It gave you a sense of control to flirt with John, to know you still had an effect on the world....even if it was a bit cruel.

“You're gonna be the death of me,” he flops on the bed, pulling the covers onto himself. “Dirty mouthed pretty ghost. Fuck my life.” He yanks the sheets over his head.

“So what do I do now?” you ask.

“Try not to go barmy over the fact you can't sleep any more,” he waves a hand at you from under the quilt before searching for a remote and putting the small TV on in the bedroom on a low volume. “Night.”

It didn't take him long to fall asleep. The slow, rhythmic and quiet snores he did were comforting in a way but it was a long way until dawn.

You weren't sure you could take many nights of this. Being awake twenty four seven seemed like a young person's dream but in reality.....maybe you'd have to work really hard to stay sane in the future....however long it took him to fix this mess.


	3. The Sound of the Suburbs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions flare as more of John's spells fail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Smut
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)
> 
> \- TLP xx

Being a ghost was boring as fuck.

John seemed to take forever to wake up and when he finally did, he was in such a daze that he didn't say a word to you, merely stumbled naked as the day he was born into the bathroom where he took the longest piss you've ever heard.

“Morning to you too,” you call to him and hear a crash from the other room.

He comes back out with a towel hurriedly wrapped around his waist, “Shit. Forgot. Totally forgot.”

“Yeah I'm still here,” you sigh.

“Casting that many spells yesterday wiped me out,” he groans. “God I need a Nurofen and a stiff drink.”

You would've stayed where you were but the compulsion to follow had you trotting like a dutiful hound by his side as he went into the kitchen and opened the biggest cabinet. It was stuffed full of alcohol in varying states of emptiness.

“Well, that's healthy,” you blink.

“Oh don't judge me, Little Miss Perfect Instagram Life,” he scowls at you before selecting some rum and knocking the tablets back with it straight from the bottle. “I'm tryna bloody help ya here.”

“I know, I know. I'd rather not be up all night again if I can help it.”

“Aye, not easy,” he wipes his face with water from the sink. “I'll try again today. I can probably cobble a few spells together into something more powerful.”

“Will that even work?”

“The way my luck is going, probably not,” John snorts. “But won't know until I try, eh? Sit tight whilst I make some sarnies. I'll need the energy. You can go on into the living room”

“Please don't make me watch more TV,” you plead. “I need conversation, anything.”

“Luv, if you're this restless after one night, that's not a good sign.”

That hangs in the air as he sets about pulling a cheese and ready salted crisp sandwich together, munching with ravenous vigour whilst seeming to mull something over. Maybe it _wasn't_ a good sign. Maybe it meant you'd go stir crazy like John said and become something truly monstrous.

“Oi, ghostie,” John clicks his fingers in front of your face. “Come back to me. We'll get on with it once I've put some kecks on. I think I've been naked around you enough.”

“Embarrassed?”

“Hardly. You seemed impressed by what I'm packing but I'm not gonna get used to it.”

“Or are you just sad that we can't do a quid pro quo of nakedness?” you gesture to your eternal attire.

“Well I think the jungle explorer vibe is gonna get old,” he appraises you. “And I am _very_ curious about what's under that shirt but like I said, the quickest way to madness is perving over a spectre.”

“Get me back in my body then,” you sit on the sofa cross legged.

He shakes himself and sighs in exasperation before muttering to himself, “Come on, Johnny boy, stop flirting with the pretty ghost in the very very _very_ tight shorts....fuck.....get it together.”

You thought you were on an understanding with him, bonding even but as he tried his spells again, his temperament got more and more hostile to you. He seemed to take every failure as personally offensive before you were rounded upon.

“Jesus!” he growls. “What the fuck _are_ you?! I've never come across something like you before.”

“I don't know what's going on either.”

“There's nothing that fits,” he grabs the hair on the back of his head and huffs in frustration. “Absolutely no creature I've ever come across that fits.”

He looks up to the ceiling, holding his hands out in supplication, “Come on, Big G. Help me out a little here, or is this your bloody handiwork to begin with? If it is, I'll kick your stupid beard so far back into your face that you'll be shitting hair for years.”

“Are you threatening God?”

“We're not on the best of terms,” John says cryptically before scowling. “This is doing me swede in. Can you just tell me if you ever had any weird encounters before the shelter?”

“Ordinary girl,” you shrug. “Good marks in school, bad at sports, no self preservation streak when it comes to getting the best photo.”

“You're lying to me,” John snarls in your face.

“I'm not lying, now back up,” you raise your eyebrow before standing up straight. “I don't like people yelling at me.”

“You're not a person any more,” he fires back. “Whatever was you is in me bloody freezer compartment. You're a shadow, an echo of that life.”

You wanted to cry but nothing came out, only a feeling of total despair at his cruel words and the lights started dimming in the apartment. John looked fearful for a second before his wild eyes snapped back to you.

“Did you do that?” he breathes.

“I don't know. I don't know anything. Stop being horrible to me.”

“Lass, if you just made the lights flicker that's not a good sign _at all,_ ” he bites his lip. “Means you're starting to slide into a poltergeist route. Look, let me say sor-”

But his apology is cut off by the knocking of his front door. He flounders for a while before going to the peep hole and looking out and his body language tenses up before he comes back to you.

“Luv, me bit on the side is here, usually just means she wants some casual fun. For the love of everything sacred, can you please just stay here? We'll get our rocks off then I'll kick her out, alright? I need the bloody stress relief. All you've done is flirt with me and piss me off and that's a toxic sodding combo for me.”

“I'm not listening to you have sex, John,” you glare at him. “Why should I do anything nice for you when I'm just a 'shadow'.”

“Lass pleaaaaaase,” he begs. “I'll be quick. I'm not in the mood for an all night sesh.”

You don't answer, you just turn away from him. The knock at the door comes again and John tears himself away from you, putting his hands over his face and grunting in frustration before opening the door and you hear the false cheery attitude as he greets the girl.

She's skinny, very skinny and not what you'd reckon his type is at all. He has quite a brooding image, a bad boy image and she's just....a chav. There was no better word for it. She had bottle blonde hair that was brassy and overprocessed, heavy fake tan, humongous fake eyelashes and a set of lips that were so blown up that they looked like the backside of a baboon.

“No taste at all,” you sit back on the sofa with your arms folded.

John gives you a glare and a warning look before disappearing into the bedroom. You didn't know if jamming your fingers in your ears would help or not but it became apparent that not even doing that would stop some of the absurd noises she had started making.

Did guys really believe moans like that? Were they so desperate to feel like a stud that they couldn't tell how unreal they were?

After ten minutes and the room shaking shriek of whatever porno orgasm she was trying to portray, you couldn't stand it any longer.

You didn't know whether you were more mad that he would fuck someone like that or that he was just fucking someone else at all. Flirting didn't automatically mean he was solely interested in you, and not that he could do anything anyway, but it felt intensely disrespectful to have sex a few feet away from you.

The anger built and built as his groans joined the noises too and you ran towards the wall, not knowing what to expect but when you phased through it, you knew your plan had worked.

Both of them were stark naked, going at it in such a boring way that you actually burst out laughing. With all of those screams you were expecting a fetish level of sex....not missionary.

Immediately John's head snaps around to see you and if looks could kill, you'd be dead a second time.

“The forms off, the moans are fake, I give at a three out of ten,” you announce like a sports commentator.

“Shut up!” John hisses and the girl looks at him in horror. “Not you, luv, didn't mean you.”

They get back to their rhythm and you decide to make the most obviously fake pornographic moans you can, outstripping hers in volume until John starts losing his concentration.

“Something wrong?” the girl asks. “Not into me today?”

“Oh I'm very much into you. Literally,” he thrusts and that seems to quell her questions.

He gets rougher with her, making a prominent display whilst staring you straight in the eyes. It was a clear challenge.

You could feel bubbling rage in your soul and the feeling spread through your body, getting hotter and hotter until you lashed out with your hand, expecting it to phase through the lamp on the table.

What it actually did was sail off, propelled by the force of your swing and knock the girl straight in the face, bursting her nose open as blood starts running down into her mouth.

“That's it!” she shrieks, pushing John off her and spitting madly. “You're into some weird shit, John but I can't handle it today. I just had my nose done as well!”

“Chantelle, come back!” John tries to touch her arm but she shrugs him off, getting back into her clothes and storming out of the apartment yelling that she'd never come back.

“Oh my god,” you put your hands over your mouth, wide eyed as John comes thundering towards you. “Oh my god, I had no idea I could do that. I'm so sorry.”

“Are you that determined to ruin my life that you can't even let me have half an hour to relax?!” he bellows.

“Is she alright? I didn't mean-”

“Oh you _did_ mean,” you're backed against a wall. “You wanted to fuck it up, congrats. You just did. Revenge served.”

“John, please, I just wanted to stop the noises. I didn't know I could interact with things. You saw how I tried to close the freezer yesterday.”

He sighs, pulling some jogging bottoms on before sitting on the bed and cradling his head in his hands. After taking a deep breath, he looks up again at your worried and guilty face.

“Think she really was faking it?” he mutters.

“She might have been enjoying it but she was certainly over-egging the moans. Some girls think that's what men want to hear.”

“To be honest, it was getting a bit shrill even for _my_ ears,” he admits. “She's just the only bird who gives me the time a' day any more. I take the sex where I can get it.”

“I feel really bad now,” you stare at the floor.

“Don't, luv. Learned me lesson. Not fair on you to hear that. Maybe get lost for a bit though so I can have a crafty wank because I'm still pent up.”

“Okay then, I really am sorry.”

You go to touch his face and he gives a startle as your palm is on his cheek. You wonder if he can feel it in some capacity.

“It's warm,” he remarks in bewilderment. “I can feel it, it's warm.”

He stands up, trying to grab for your arm but his own fingers slide through your form.

“Maybe I can only touch you,” you suggest.

“That's a crying shame,” his eyes rake over you.”Might have asked you to help a bloke out if I could touch you....since you seem to be so jealous and all.”

“I'm not jealous,” you narrow your eyes.

“Keep telling yourself that darlin',” he smirks. “You want ol' Johnny all to yourself.”

“That wasn't a very impressive display,” you gesture to the bed.

“Told ya I wasn't gonna do me best moves,” he shrugs. “Not wasting them on some bronzed tart but for you...for you I would.”

“And what's different about me?”

“Everything.”

The word hangs in the air, becoming more uncomfortable than it was meant to and he just lies back on the bed, shaking his head, “That weren't mean to sound so romance novel. You just....you're a mystery, lass. Plus I expect you woulda never given me a sideways glance if you hadn't died around me. I'm not many people's type and especially not for a pretty middle class girl like yourself. You should be marrying a banker or a contractor or some such bollocks, not flirting with a working class magus like me.”

“Don't tell me who I should like. You don't know a thing about me.”

“Maybe I should just accept the inevitable and get to know you,” he stares at the ceiling. “I think you'll be around a while. Unless......”

“Unless what?”

“I need to book a flight.”

“A flight?! Where?!”

“New Orleans.”

He starts pulling a battered suitcase off a wardrobe and shoving things into it.

“Why?”

“Because,” he stops for a second. “Because that's where Madame Xanadu is and if there's one person who might know summat about this....this....situation, it's her....or Papa Midnite but he ain't exactly me best mate right now. Rather talk to her first.”

“Is she...good with spirits?”

“Usually but since you're not a spirit, who knows. Gotta try though,” he gets his phone out and starts tapping away. “I've booked it for three hours time. I can have a kip on the plane and you....”

“I can what? Run up and down the aisles?”

“I'll put the movies on and you can...sit on me lap,” he winks. “Better than staring at folk for several hours and- oh shit! I forgot I'll have to take your body with us, just in case she can help.”

“How on earth will you get that through the airport scanners?!”

“Have faith, luv, I _am_ a magus,” he grins. “I've only ever been arrested six times and that's good goin' for my line a' work.”

“Right,” you flop onto the bed. “What can possibly go wrong?”

As you watch him pack things away for travel essentials, you find yourself wishing you still were in your body. You would've loved to visit New Orleans, to see the sites, to eat the food and yet here you were, unable to touch....well sometimes at least....and definitely unable to eat.

You hoped this Madame Xanadu could do something about your situation because you don't think you could stand much more of John's mercurial moods and the more time you spent frozen, the less chance you thought you would have a working body to get back to.....if that was even possible to begin with.

“Come on, Gee, we need to go,” he breaks you out of your thoughts. “And I hope to god if you sit on me lap that I can't bloody feel it because my cock's like a loaded gun right now and I don't fancy explaining any stains away.”

“Could you be less crude?” you chide.

“Nah, you wouldn't like me then,” he winks. “Come on, Louisiana awaits.”


	4. Holidays in the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You journey to Louisiana with John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Smut, Minor Angst
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)
> 
> \- TLP xx

Of all the indignities your corpse has suffered, being prised out of John's freezer, blue and mottled was probably right up there.

It was then promptly overtaken by the indignity of him morphing your body into an innocuous Hawaiian shirt.

“Are you serious?!” you watch him fold it up and place it in the suitcase.

“Do you want me to get a gloved hand up the jacksy when they find a body in me bag?” he gives you a look like you're bonkers. “You'll be safe, don't worry. Spell keeps you frozen and unless baggage handlers lose the suitcase, I'll be able to turn you back.”

“Why didn't you turn me before then, in the taxi, so you didn't have to smuggle me upstairs?”

“Errrrr......look, fucking shut up lass. I'm not Einstein in a crisis,” he scowls. “I'm doing the best I sodding can. Contrary to what you might think, this is not a normal week for me.”

“And what is? Shagging complete bimbos and drinking in the pub?”

“Sounds like heaven to me,” he says sarcastically before heaving the case downstairs and you follow him to the ordinary taxi waiting outside.

You keep quiet on the journey there, watching the world go by as you speed off to the airport. Once you get there, John takes an inordinate amount of time chainsmoking three cigarettes in a row before you finally have to speak up.

“Are you not going to be late checking in?”

“Yeah yeah, gimme a minute, luv,” he waves you away. “Not gonna be able to smoke for a long while. Give a bloke some peace for a sec.”

When he eventually decides he's smoked enough, he gets through check-in, security and you watch your body travel away on the conveyor belt. The sense of terror as it goes out of sight is unreal and for a moment your complete panic makes all of the departure boards start fritzing.

“Calm down, Gee,” John hisses quietly. “If you shut everything down, I can't take you to Madame Xanadu.”

“I'm sorry, I'm just frightened they'll lose me.”

“It'll be fine, now quit flipping out on me before I start to look weird talking to meself.”

You try to concentrate on being more composed and the electrics stop frazzling around you.

“Good girl,” John nods surreptitiously. “Sorry, that sounded right patronising, didn't it?”

“I don't know, it can be fun in the right contexts,” you smirk.

“Shitting hell, don't start flirting again,” he covers his mouth and you can see the desperation in his eyes. “I told you me trouser situation.”

“Go on, get through to the lounge,” you point. “Before you embarrass yourself.”

Waiting at the departure gate was a testing time. You had to watch as John ate some fast food and you had this odd kind of ache that wasn't quite hunger but almost like an echo of what hunger was.

You also had to put up with John bouncing his leg constantly like he was nervous. The tapping was grating on you but for the sake of not affecting the environment around you, you had to remain in control of yourself.

When you eventually got on the plane, John sat down after shoving a rucksack in the overhead locker and then patting his thighs for you to sit on. You'd been dreading this moment and very cautiously sat down, stopping right where you'd expect to stop.

“Can you feel me?” you ask.

“Not the weight of you but the warmth,” he answers. “I can cope with that for several hours. It's actually quite comforting.”

Once in the air, he reaches around you and puts some movies on with subtitles so you have something to focus on before stretching back in the seat and starting to doze off. Hours go by of that constant drone of the engines and you're getting bored.

John is gently snoring behind you as the cabin crew move through with food and you want to wake him so he can eat but you're unsure how. You could twist around and try not to touch the businessman sat next to him before....I mean you don't exactly remember how you managed to hit the lamp earlier but surely you could replicate it, right?

You get up, twirling around and straddling John before placing your palm on his cheek, trying to rouse him with the warmth. If anything it just soothes him into sleep further.

You try tapping him but your fingers just disappear into his skin before you pull them back out. What could you do now? Yell at him?

His hips move as he gets into a slightly different position and it surprises you that you can feel the solidness of him underneath you. In a flash of pure wicked feeling, the urge to grind on top of him takes hold so unexpectedly and so feverishly that you buck against him, not even knowing if it would do anything other than amuse you.

His eyes open with a start as you do it again and he almost moans, trying to catch your form in his arms to pull you closer to him but stopping when he remembers you're not actually there. It was lucky the guy next to him was asleep.

“What the fucking hell are you doing?!” he whispers furiously.

“Waking you up, food's here. Didn't want you to miss out,” you point to the approaching trolley.

“And you thought you'd use me as a bloody stripper pole?!”

“I'm sorry, I tried tapping your face but it didn't work. I'm not sure why doing this _did_.”

“Lass, you've just created a really uncomfortable situation in me boxers here,” John looks tormented. “You got any idea how enticing it was to wake up to you half riding me? Fuck me.”

“Can I get you a hot meal, sir?” the air hostess asks.

“Uh yeah,” John swallows rapidly. “Leave it on me table, sorry, need the loo.”

You have to follow him to the cubicle before he hisses under his breath, “Get in here with me. We need to talk.”

You've probably pushed him beyond his limit and you feel awful about it. You don't even know where that urge came from to do what you did.

“How did you know?” he narrows his eyes once the two of you are packed into the toilet stall.

“Know what?”

“I were dreamin' about you,” he puts the sink on and splashes cold water on his face. “Riding me. That can't have been a coincidence.”

“I don't know. Once second I was trying to wake you gently and the next I just...I just wanted to grind against you, I have no idea what happened.”

“I mean, I guess it's something else I can tell Xanadu when we see her but Jesus H. Christ, lass...I nearly emptied meself when I woke up to that.”

“I've known some horny guys in my time, John but you are something else.”

“Don't get lippy with me, luv. I've not cum in a bloody long time. I'm not some hairy palmed teenager. Life gets in the way a' jollies sometimes, especially when idiot lasses like you cross my path.”

“Oi, watch it,” you hold up a finger before sighing. “Take your pants off.”

“What?”

“You heard. You're so pent up? Take your pants down and have at it right now.”

“In the loo?!” his voices rises dramatically. “I'm not a sex offender and besides....you're here.”

“And screwing the oompa loompa girl in front of me is different....how?”

“Fair point,” he ruffles his hair. “God you really didn't like her, did you? Anyways, you really want me to crack one out with you right there?”

“If I'm that much of a distraction you'll finish quickly and people won't wonder why you've been in the toilet for so long.”

You can see the cogs turning in his head, the lust overpowering his common sense and embarrassment as he starts unbuttoning his suit trousers.

“Alright then but no putting me off. You either shut up or help.”

You hold your hands up to show him you won't be hindering him this time. As garish as this was, John was the only person who could help you right now so you needed him focused and you needed him de-stressed. Your little power trip of flirting with him was fun and all but it wouldn't help your situation ultimately. He needed release now and again.

“Sure you don't find this weird?” he pushes his boxers a little down his thighs and you can see just how desperate he really is.

“If you knew what I'd been up to in my life, you wouldn't ask me that question.”

“Gee, I tell ya. I'm gonna try so bloody hard to get you back in your body because I _really_ want to know what you meant by that,” he bites his lip.

“Maybe I'll tell you sometime,” you move closer to him as his hand wraps around his cock and starts a rhythm. “Maybe I'll continue that thread of your dream if you get me back in my body. Maybe I'll show you what noises a girl _should_ make and then I'll make you make a few of your own.”

“Shit, keep talking,” his head rests back against the cubicle wall, mouth parted a little.

“No, open your eyes, John.”

He does so to see you inches away, so close that if you were corporeal, you would be almost kissing him. You try to focus your concentration on touching him where his hip moves up to his torso and trailing under his shirt.

To both of your surprises, you watch as your fingers delve under his clothes and he gives a stuttered moan, “Fuck, I can feel you!”

“Good, that's what I wanted,” you trail your hand further up as his own moves faster and faster. “If you get me back, I can do so much more to you, John. I can show you how good I am with my mouth.”

“Fuck,” John's voice cracks as his legs start shaking. “I'm gonna...”

You watch his cock twitch as cum streams over his hand. He really wasn't lying when he'd said it had been a while. There was a _lot_ of it.

“You seem impressed,” he half laughs as he cleans himself up. “Imagining I came somewhere else?”

“Maybe over the toilet since you've managed to catch your trousers,” you lean against the door.

“You don't fool me,” he assesses you shrewdly. “You didn't talk like a lass that wasn't enjoying that.”

“So what if I was?” you shrug.

“Bloody hell, you're a forward bird, aren't you?” he laughs.

“And you're clearly not used to receiving in any kind of fashion.”

He puts a hand either side of your head, leaning in close and you see his tongue dart out, wetting his lips, “No I am not, luv. I like hearing a girl completely break for me and for that, I need to give a lot. If you still like me once this adventure is over, I'll show you how I do that. I warn you though, I don't like to give up control.”

There's a knock at the door and a voice shouts, “What the fuck are you doing in there? Are you copping off? Do I need to tell an air hostess?”

“Shit,” John hisses, preening himself so he looks presentable. “This is gonna be embarrassing.”

He opens the door, moving through you and when he does, it's like you connect on a level you've never experienced before. Memories start pouring into your consciousness, memories that aren't yours, memories of the horrors of John's past and for that brief instant before he managed to fully pass through you, you feel like you've been robbed of breath and want to cry, to scream, to collapse.

Then the feeling dissipated just as quickly as it had come and you stagger out into the little lobby as John holds his head down so as not to look at the very confused man outside the loo.

When John got settled in his seat again, you stood in the aisle as he ate and you waited for a good time to tell him what had happened.

“You're staring,” he says quietly. “What's up?”

“The avocado bedroom with the paisley border and the three ducks. Where was that?”

His face drains of colour and he drops his plastic knife whilst he was buttering his crackers, “What did you just say?”

“The bedroom, where was it?”

“That's....that's....me home. Me childhood home. How did you-”

“-When you passed through me, I got an information dump on your life. I don't know, I felt like I couldn't breathe but I wanted to shout. Fuck me, how are you still so cheerful, John? What I saw was awful.”

“I'm not discussing this right now,” he mutters. “Don't you dare give me sympathy looks, lass. Not in the mood for them.”

“Sorry, I just-”

“-Drop it,” he hisses. “We'll talk later at the hotel.”

You spent the rest of the flight in silence, feeling like you'd offended him, like you'd pried too much into his life. You just hope he still wanted to help you on the other end of the journey.

**

Suitcase recovered and Hawaiian shirt intact, you go to the hotel watching John pace around the room trying to bump the air conditioning up because his shirt was already stuck to his back and turning transparent.

“This heat is oppressive,” he flops on the bed.

“Just make sure I don't defrost,” you nod to the shirt hung up in the wardrobe.

“Don't worry your pretty head about that, luv. You're well preserved,” he mops his forehead with some tissue. “Right, now tell me again what happened when I walked through you?”

“I told you, I got your memories. I think I got your feelings as well.”

“Lemme just try something here. Come lie down next to me,” he pats the bed.

You do so and he hops over before rolling to lie directly through you.

Again that feeling of intense emotion but this time it's concentrated and you hear John gasp as he almost falls off the bed trying to get away. His chest is heaving and his eyes are impossibly wide.

“Are you okay?” you ask, fearful, so fearful that the TV flickers on and off.

“Aye, I'm fine. Calm down, Gee,” he waves you away dismissively.

“Why are you calling me 'Gee'?”

“Because it's shorter than calling you Ghost.”

“It's literally one syllable for either.”

“Piss off! I'm tryna be friendly, lass,” he scrambles back up the bed. “And why did you let Jason in your knickers? He clearly only wanted one thing and it wasn't a long talk and a cuddle.”

“Excuse me?”

“Jason Wainwright, in university. He was a prick and you knew it.”

“No way,” you cover your mouth. “Did you just-”

“And really, luv, you could've done a million times better.”

“Okay okay! Jesus, is it your turn to be scathing about choice of partners now?”

“I mean....those tattoos were dreadful.”

“And yours are any better?”

“Mine are functional,” he narrows his eyes. “Protection and spell enhancement.”

“Here I thought you just got bored and doodled.”

He takes the bait and opens his mouth angrily but upon seeing you hiding your laugh, his expression softens and he lies down next to you.

“You've had a right old time of it too, haven't you?” John's tone is gentle. “Raised by your gran? She was a laugh though.”

“She was. I just wish she remembered me by the end.”

“She knew you,” he looks at you sadly. “I guarantee that she knew......Gee?”

“Yeah?”

“I really will get you back. I promise.”

His hand comes over yours and this time the connection is just pure feeling but it's one that echoes between you both that tugs at the corners of his mouth until his eyes twinkle.

The start of burgeoning affection.


	5. Down On The Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and John look for Madame Xanadu in New Orleans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: None
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)
> 
> \- TLP xx

John tried as much as he could to stay awake, downing a concoction of all the complimentary coffees the hotel room provided. You could see his hands shaking and his restlessness increasing as he got a map of New Orleans and started swinging a crystal on a string over it in big methodical patterns.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Scrying.”

“Annnnnd what's that?”

“Means I'm looking for Madame Xanadu,” he pokes his tongue out, concentrating.

“I thought you knew where she was?”

“I know the general area. She moves around a lot. Doesn't like being easily traceable. Don't blame her frankly.”

You wondered just how she was going to be when you finally met her. Maybe she was irascible just like John was, maybe she wouldn't want to help, maybe she would just send you straight over into whatever came next. You realised then that you didn't _want_ to move on. You wanted to stay and you wanted a chance at getting back in your body.

When you touched John's shoulder, thinking about if Xanadu would be able to bring you back, a spark flashed between you and the string shot out of John's hand and planted itself firmly over a spot on the map. You jerked back in surprise as he yelled.

“What the bloody fucking hell were that?!” he whirls around. “Did you just.....did you just...”

“I don't know! What _did_ I do?!” you say confused.

“You amplified my magic,” he blinks. “How the....Jesus Christ, I really want to know what you are because that shouldn't be possible. Did you do magic before?”

“I literally only found out it was possible when I met you.”

“How about psychic abilities?”

“Pretty sure if I had any, I wouldn't have gotten myself killed.”

“I don't mean visions of the future,” he waves a dismissive hand before running over to you, the nervous caffeined energy making him talk a million miles an hour. “It can be anything from knowing people's thoughts, reading auras, really accurate gut instinct.”

“I've told you, John. I'm just normal,” you're getting exasperated.

This is the umpteenth time you've had this conversation now.

“You're a bloody mystery is what you are, luv,” he sighs. “Come on, guess she's in that building then. We'd best make tracks before she goes somewhere else. No doubt she'll know I'm coming.”

“Why would she leave if she knows you're coming?”

“I piss a lot of people off, lass. Her included.”

“Really? But you're such a ray of sunshine,” you say sarcastically.

“Oi! I can go off you, you know,” he points a finger. “Don't make me put your soul back into something else...like a cat.”

“I'll scratch your fucking eyes out if you do,” you warn him.

“You've got to be the most infuriating bird I've ever met,” he rolls his eyes, grabbing his trenchcoat and pulling it on, fluffing the collar up.

“And still you would fuck me if you could,” you fold your arms.

“Don't have to like you to fuck you,” he snorts before opening the door and you trot about two steps behind him, keeping pace.

As you pass through the streets of New Orleans, you can see it's a real party town. People are drunk already and it was only six p.m, staggering down the sides of the streets with strings of beads around their necks. It was strange seeing this much life around you and knowing John was the only person you could interact with.

When you passed by some high walls, you thought nothing of it until you got to a gate in the middle of it and happened to glance by. Someone waved at you.

You stopped, trying to be sure they weren't just waving to another person that was behind you but when you pointed to yourself, the man just nodded and waved again. You waved back.

You would've tried to explore this a bit more but John was already striding a bit farther away and that pull was starting.

“John!” you call and he turns around in alarm before jogging back.

“Everything alright?” he asks.

“That man just waved at me,” you point through the gates. “He can see me!”

“Aye, probably,” John spots him. “He's dead too.”

“Wait, what?”

“It's a graveyard, lass. Look more closely.”

And now he said it, you felt stupid for not noticing the mausoleums and ornate tombstones. They seemed overtly grand for being in the middle of an urban sprawl.

“So I can speak with other ghosts?” you ask.

“Yeah but I wouldn't if I were you,” John watches warily as the man starts approaching the gate. “Come on, let's move.”

“Why? He's just being friendly.”

“Gee, _let's go_ ,” he says more forcefully.

You didn't understand. This man wasn't doing anything wrong. He'd been polite and was just coming over to talk. John couldn't stop you talking after all.

The man was at the gate now and you saw more clearly that he was wearing a civil war era uniform. You walked closer to him even as John idiotically tried to grab for you. The man was smiling kindly and you stopped just on the other side of the gate.

“Hello,” you greet him.

“Hello Ma'am,” the man says. “Would you be awfully kind as to open the gate? I would so like to leave this place.”

“Open the gate?” you query. “You haven't left the graveyard in all this time?”

“No and I would so like to taste freedom,” he stops short of wrapping his fingers around the bars.

Your hand reaches out, about to try and press the handle when the pull in your core starts viciously. You turn around and see that John was running away as fast as he could.

“OPEN THE GATE!” the man screams but his face has distorted, rotted and his jaw was distended unnaturally wide.

You were thankful when you popped to John's side as he leant against a wall trying to catch his breath. He was clutching his waist, needling the skin with his knuckles to fight off a stitch.

“Okay, what the fuck was that?” you still see the man's face at the gate in the distance before he slinks off out of sight.

“That,” John pants. “Were fucking dangerous. He were trying to smoke you out of existence, luv.”

“What? How is that even possible?”

“Ghosts are vulnerable to iron, those gates are iron. If you'd of touched them...you would've faded into nothing.”

“But you said I'm not a true ghost.”

“Aye, so if you'd been able to open the gate, you would've set the whole spookshow in there free to wreak havoc on New Orleans. Neither option were good,” he gulps down air before standing up. “Had to get you away.”

“I'm sorry, I should've-”

“-Listened? Aye you _should_ ,” he frowns angrily. “Who's got the most experience here? I tell you not to do summat, you don't do it. Got it?”

“But I-”

“-No ifs, no buts, no nothing. Don't be a bloody stupid bimbo, alright? You're smarter than that. Let's go.”

He whirls around, trenchcoat fanning out behind him as he strides off in a complete strop and you can feel the waves of rage rolling off of him as you try to keep up. Evidently you'd really pushed his buttons there.

You follow in complete silence, trying to avoid the revellers when you hit Bourbon Street who were dancing, singing nonsense drunken tunes and playing instruments. You briefly imagine it would've been fun to come here if you were still in a body but when you accidentally passed through a young girl and got all of her memories of high school including a data dump of teenage angst that had you nearly crying, you reconsidered.

“Fuck!” you pitch to the side as John looks around in confusion. “I'm okay, I'm okay. Just went through someone. Not pleasant.”

“Try and avoid folks if you can, lass. We're almost there,” he says before winding his way through the crowds.

Easier said than done with this many people around. By the time you reach the little shop with the home made sign that says **Hokus & Pokus Occult Curioso **you've already managed to fall through about four people and gain their entire life stories. You were almost on your knees crawling.

“Looks like she franchised,” John muses at the sign before catching sight of you. “Oh bloody hell, you alright there lass?”

“If I could throw up, I would be doing,” you scramble to your feet. “Is this it?”

“This is it,” he gestures. “This shop used to be in New York about a year ago. Had no idea she'd started it up again. Come on.”

You walk through the beads over the door to where John opens the main door and balks at something. By the way he's wrinkling his nose, it must be a pretty overpowering smell but you can't sense anything these days.

“Oi oi,” he calls out into the shop. “Xannie? You here?”

There's a rush and the next thing you know, John is sprawled over the circular table in the main room, legs and arms flailing. You run over but are blasted into the wall but some unseen force, stuck there with your limbs spread out to the corners.

“I never thought you would have the stones to contact me again, John Constantine,” a female voice says, an accent you can't quite place. “And you brought something unnatural with you. The cards told me you were in trouble and I might be expecting you at my door.”

“Just let me up and I can explain,” John struggles

“You left me for dead!” the woman comes into view.

She's beautiful, long dark hair that seems to ripple as she moves, sharp cheekbones and she's clad in a purple dress with glittering crystals that shimmer with every breath. Her eyes though, the eyes draw you in. They're bright green but they're clouded.

She's blind.

“I thought you _were_ dead!” John protests.

“What part of immortal don't you understand?” she walks over and slaps John on the forehead. “I should throw you out and lock the door. I _would_ throw you out but I'm curious about what's followed you. Get up.”

John falls off the table, sprawling in a heap before getting up and brushing off his coat. He spots you and you can see the worry in his face.

“Let her go.”

“Her?” she replies. “I did wonder.”

Her sightless gaze shoots up, seeming to look you right in the eye before you drop to the floor. John stupidly tries to catch you and you get another jolt of his memories. A grim playground, a small blond boy crying with small circular burns peppered up his arms as he swung on the swing without a purpose.

“Oh my god, John,” you felt the searing heat in your own soul, prickling at your own phantom image of arms. “Your childhood was messed up.”

“Bollocks, forgot about that,” he shuffles uncomfortably.

“What's going on, John?” Madame Xanadu interrupts. “Premonition only helps me to a point and all the cards would say is that you're in trouble again. Now why is there a girl with you?”

“ _She's_ the trouble,” John sits on the chair. “I tried to save her from a poltergeist but she snuffed it. Then her spirit just latched onto me. I'm the thing tethering her here. I've tried every bloody spell I can to get her back in her body or to move on but nothing works. If she passes through me or vice versa, we swap memories and emotions. She can touch me but I can't touch her. I have no idea what she is.”

Madame Xanadu moves forward with surprising grace, coming straight for you and stopping about five inches away. She circles you, hand outstretched, fingers gently wafting as she does so and you have no idea what's going on.

“John, you are without a doubt the _worst_ magus I've ever known,” she tsks. “This is obvious.”

“So you know what I am then?” you ask.

“Not a ghost, not a revenant, not a strigoi....not corporeal but able to interact, memory sharing, an intense bond with John...”

“I wouldn't call it _intense_ ,” you shrug.

“Increased attraction, emotional connection...don't lie to me, I know this is the case.”

John coughs to hide his embarrassment, “Yeah yeah, so what is she?”

“Oh no, I'm not doing anything more for you for free,” she turns around dramatically.

“Oh come on!” John holds his hands out. “Please, luv. Help me out here. I spent all me cash getting over here in the first place.”

“Lie,” she flicks her fingers and some unseen force slaps John around the face. “As if I don't know about your secret bank vault.”

“Alright, nothing gets past you but can't blame a bloke for trying,” he rubs his cheek.

“Did you seriously just try to con her?” you scowl. “When you want her help? Are you that tapped in the head?”

“No need to gang up on me. Christ,” he shakes his head. “Get two bloody women in the same room....”

“Don't you dare finish that sentence,” you point at him.

Madame Xanadu laughs, “I like you. For you, I'll help. John's already ruined your life.”

“Oi!” John gets up angrily. “She were the fucking moron who went into an abandoned shelter and stood taking pictures of a bloody poltergeist!”

“Like I said,” Xanadu carries on, ignoring him. “He ruined your life. If you do me a favour, I'll do you one, deal?”

“Deal,” you nod, forgetting your condition as you reached for her hand.

When her fingers brushed past yours, you got the most intense jolt aside from the ones you get from John. This woman was old, _very_ old. All the way back to the time of Camelot and Merlin as you saw her battling hard with magic and then....

You sailed over the table, crashing into the cabinet where objects started smashing into you and you fell to the ground gasping. When you managed to regain your senses again, you saw you'd made a very real dent in the woodwork and John was standing over you, fireballs in his hands and looking like he was ready to fight.

“What was _that_?” you get up unsteadily.

“I don't like people looking around in my past,” Xanadu's eyes are glowing green. “So I threw you out. No hard feelings.”

“Do that again and we'll have issues,” John hisses.

“We _already_ have issues, John,” she laughs softly. “I meant no harm to her.”

“It's okay, it's okay,” you reassure him until he finally extinguishes the flames. “That was really cool though, I like seeing you use magic.”

“If that's all it takes to impress you,” he smirks.

“This favour,” Xanadu cuts across your flirtations. “My regular clients have been going missing and it's bad for my business. Those vampires in the convent are responsible and they're getting far too arrogant. I want you to clear them out.”

“Why couldn't _you_ do it?” John narrows his eyes. “You're not exactly weak and defenceless.”

“That's observant for you, John,” she smiles. “Because they've got their own sorcerer who's warded the place against me but you...you can go in.”

“I really don't like the sound of that.”

“Well it's the only way I'll tell you how your ethereal friend got stuck to you and what she is,” she sits down, fluffing the skirt of her dress.

“You've seen that we can do this, haven't you?” you ask.

“Ahhhh,” she grins, perfect white teeth sparkling against the contrast of her burgundy lips. “You found a smart girl who can stand you. Congratulations, John.”

“Bore off,” John snarls. “Answer her sodding question.”

“Yes I have,” she produces tarot cards from thin air which deal out in front of her, showcasing each one in turn. “The Lovers, a union or a partnership would come to me. The Magician, some manifestation, that one of you is not entirely corporeal but I did not know the specifics, Reversed Six of Swords, one with emotional baggage would appear...that'd be John. Three of Pentacles, a collaboration between us. Six of Wands, it shall be victorious. This is what the cards have told me.”

“I do _not_ have emotional baggage,” John grumbles.

“Return to me when the task is done,” Xanadu regathers the cards. “Then I shall help you.”

“Fine, time for another excursion,” John sighs, looking at you. “Ready, Gee?”

“Not really but let's do this,” you gear yourself up.

John leaves the shop without a backwards glance, obviously infuriated but you cast Madame Xanadu a look which she seems to meet on an uncanny level. Just before you feel that pull again, you say, “Thank you, _Nimue_.”

“You're welcome,” she says after stiffening a little at the name you saw from the contact before. “And don't ever use that name in front of John. I don't want him to know. He'll only abuse my good graces more.”

“I understand. We'll see you soon.”

“You will,” she lights the candles on the desk with a wave of her hand. “And you won't like what I have to say when you do.”

You want to ask more but John is already far away and before the question can leave your mouth, you've already teleported to his side out in the busy streets again. Guess you'd have to wait to know what she meant....


	6. Smash It Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In order to learn what happened to you, you first have to clear out some vampires. Just another Wednesday, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Violence
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)
> 
> \- NB xx

You think John was lost.

He kept walking in circles trying to find this convent. You didn't really want to believe that there were vampires there but given what you'd seen already, it was stupid to think that other weird things weren't out there too.

“Just use Google Maps,” you sigh after he takes another wrong turn.

“Are you joking?!” his eyebrows shoot up. “With data roaming prices as they are, I don't think so luv. I'll get creative.”

His version of getting creative was joining the back of a ghost tour with the most extra guide you've ever seen. Clearly this guy loved his job because he was giving it some real oomph with the dramatic retelling of Delphine LaLaurie's murder spree.

You see John try to stifle a laugh as the guide unfurled a huge fan with exuberant flare before announcing the next leg of the tour would take everyone past the convent. Seems John's creativity was paying off.

The more the guide kept talking, the more you were very tempted to give him a taste of the real supernatural. Just as you got near the convent, you signalled to John to watch before causing the guide's fan to go spinning out of his hand.

You think you've made the guy's day because he starts jumping up and down yelling, “I told you we got spooks here!”

Everyone else in comparison starts shrieking and clutching one another.

As you and John slip off towards the convent, he's still laughing hard, “You're such an evil little tart, aren't you? That were mega. You'll be on youtube by tomorrow.”

“It was funny,” you shrug, failing at keeping your grin contained. “He'd been waffling on about ghosts and vampires for so long that he might as well get a proper taste of it.”

“I love a lass with a sense of mischief,” he wipes under his eyes before making sure no one was looking and scaling up the vines over the boundary wall.

You just walk through it, watching him huff and puff as he gets on the top before dangling down and falling very ungracefully onto his arse on the other side.

“P.E. was not your best subject in school was it?” you snort.

“Piss off,” he hisses ungallantly, climbing out of the flower bed and dusting off his coat. “Let's see _you_ do that when you're back in a body.”

“I didn't say I was good at it either,” you hold your hands up. “Have you got a plan to get in?”

You'd already spotted some security guards and one of the upper floors appears to be bolted shut. There didn't seem to be a way to get in from the ground level or the roof.

“Oh aye, gimme a minute,” he massages his bruised backside before rolling his sleeves back a bit. “ _Somniere omnulte_.”

You heard thuds from inside and see the guard at the door just drop into the grass like he was a puppet with the strings cut. John just flashes you a shit eating grin.

“Are you impressed, lass? I can tell you're dead impressed.”

“I'm dead something,” you say dryly before passing him and walking into the convent.

“Oh come on,” he calls behind you. “That were amazing! You said you like watching me do magic.”

You turn around, “I do, now get inside and show me some more.”

“So demanding,” he smirks before catching up to you. “Remember luv, be safe.”

There's a moment of silence before he realises what he's said and then he just tinges a little pink on his cheeks.

“Sorry, keep forgetting you're dead. Hard to when you're right there.”

“To be fair, I almost got myself killed by a ghost earlier,” you're at the entrance now.

“You're as much of a disaster as me in that respect,” he shakes his head. “Right, they're supposed to be on the third floor. Me spell won't put 'em under but we shouldn't have any resistance as we go up.”

You trusted that...but you really shouldn't have.

When you got to attic level, there was someone waiting there who most definitely was not asleep. It was a thin man, rake thin with a severe face, dark shrewd eyes and slicked back hair.

“I did wonder if Xanadu would be stupid enough to send someone,” he drawls lazily. “Then again, appears she sent some stupid in her stead. Did you really think it would be so easy to reach my mistresses with a simple sleep spell?”

“'Course not,” John shrugs. “I'm guessing you're the sorcerer.”

“I am and you won't be a match for me,” he sneers. “So leave before my mistresses decide they'd like breakfast in bed.”

“What if I volunteer?”

“You want to....volunteer to be drained?” the sorcerer blinks.

Normally you'd think John might have gone mad but he subtly ushers you towards the door and you catch his meaning. He's stalling so you can go have a look in the attic.

You dart off, phasing through the wood and end up in a room that looks like if you were alive, you'd be stifled for breath. You could almost taste that musty smell, the smell of abandoned things even though you physically couldn't catch the scent.

Faces look up as you walk in and you freeze. Had they seen you? Was that possible? You knew Xanadu could do it but you thought that's because she was the Lady of the goddamn Lake after all. You'd seen as much in her memories.

Young girls, impossibly pale, so pale that you can see the veins under the skin start prowling your way. You back up a little, scared by their intensity as they stalk with silent footsteps.

Just as they're about to reach you, you can see their gazes are looking _past_ you.

“Hello?” you say softly but none of them react.

Guess they couldn't see you after all. Maybe they were reacting to John outside. You make a note to count how many there are and what's in the room before dashing back out.

John's still yammering away like he's trying to talk the hind leg off a donkey. You notice he's waffling about absolute drivel and the sorcerer is really not getting the fact he's just distracting him.

“Seven girls inside, they're just on the other side of the door. They know you're here. Attic room has got lots of chairs up there for storage but there's coffins at the back....at least I think they're coffins.”

He gives you a covert thumbs up before unleashing a storm of fire at the door. The sorcerer gives a yell before diving out of the way and the whole entranceway bursts into torrid flames. You can hear the shrieks of the vampires behind it.

Was this a way to kill vampires? You honestly had no idea. Maybe a stake to the heart and garlic were just a load of nonsense.

You stood there awkwardly watching John put up a tremendous fight that's half bar brawl, half fantastical fireworks display. You thought two magic users would be....less manual? John was grabbing the sorcerer in a headlock and punching with a flaming fist that was searing the guy's face like a rind of pork.

The vampires finally broke through the remnants of the door, shrieking and hissing as they filed in, rounding on the two men.

You have no idea what to do and John seemed surrounded.

“Look out!” you yell and he looks up just in time to dart out of the way of an angry swipe of overlong and pointed nails.

“Bloody hell!” he trips over a rope sectioning off an area.

“Get up!”

“Trying!”

He disentangles himself, unzipping something on the lining of his trenchcoat which appeared to be three silver skewers. He tosses one near you before stabbing the nearest vampire in the heart with it where it sizzles at the entry point, dissolving into a pile of gore and slop.

“Use that!” John points to the silver.

“Who's there?!” the sorcerer's trying to look for you, noticing John's talking to something he can't see. “Show yourself!”

“Not likely,” you mutter, focusing your strength to pick up the skewer and then rugby tackling one of the girls as she nearly takes a bite out of John's ear.

She falls on the ground and you slam the shard into her. Seeing it more up close, as she became a pile of blood and sinews on the floor, was disgusting....but there was an odd satisfaction to it. You sort of understood why ghosts could get addicted to causing destruction and chaos. There were no consequences for you.

You'd had to keep your eye on that feeling. Couldn't be good.

“Little help here!” John's stained from head to foot in blood, you weren't sure how much of it was theirs, and he's being strangled by the sorcerer with a glowing rope of light.

In your panic at seeing his face starting to turn purple and his eyes rolling back, there's a curious sensation that flows down your arms. It's like restless energy that you need to get rid of but a fizzing feeling that finally explodes out of your hand and the silver skewer shoots across the room, burying itself in the sorcerer's brain.

He drops to the floor, taking John down with him who gasps for breath desperately and flings the guy's arm off of his neck.

“Are you okay?!” you rush over, squatting down.

“Xanadu better give me a really bloody good explanation about what you are because that shouldn't be possible, what you did,” he rasps. “Felt like you were draining me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You used me energy to do that,” he flops onto the floor, trying to breathe steadily.”I'm cream crackered, luv.”

“I...what? Fuck, I'm sorry. I couldn't help it.”

He looks extremely tired and you wish you could do something more but you just have to kneel there until he feels well enough to move. He half crawls to his feet, swaying unsteadily.

“Fuck me, I'm covered in vampire,” John looks at himself in disgust. “ _Tergentar”_

His clothes, his skin and his hair just suddenly wipes clean but it appears to have come at a cost. He pitches to the side, knocking his head against the wall. With the almighty thud it produces, you're surprised he hasn't given himself a concussion.

“Come on, I need to stumble back to Xanadu. She can fix me, she can fix this,” he groans, staggering down to the ground floor of the convent.

The best you could say is that at least John blended in with the drunks out on the street. If you'd been a passerby, to you he would've looked absolutely hammered.

Funnily enough, he's a better navigator when he's tired, like a sleepy homing pigeon. You reach Madame Xanadu's fairly quickly.

She's waiting outside, smoking something that makes John wince as he reaches her.

“Victorious indeed,” she goes back inside the shop. “Sit down before you fall down.”

John collapses in an armchair, sinking into it and you can see he desperately wants to fall asleep right there but Xanadu touches his forehead and he jolts rigidly, his eyes wide with renewed energy.

“Better?” she asks.

“Yes, ta lass,” he thanks her. “Your vampire problem is gone. Time for your end of the bargain.”

“Remember when I called you the worst magus I've ever known?”

“Yeah......”

“So what spell were you trying to cast when she was in danger?”

“I wasn't. Tryna do an exorcism.”

“And what is the purpose of an exorcism?”

“To force a soul to move on,” he's frowning and even you're not sure where she's going with this.

“And did you say _religi_ or _apigi_?”

“ _Apigi_ , I'm sure of it,” John trails off before his face goes slack and his pallor becomes ashen. Oh..... _fuck_.”

“What, what is it?” you ask hurriedly.

“You're getting it now, hmm?” Xanadu folds her arms and shakes her head causing her bangles to tinkle.

“What's going on?” you repeat.

“It's _me_ ,” John leans back in the chair. “ _I'm_ the reason you didn't move on. I started an exorcism then switched to a nullifying spell then back to the exorcism. Me words must have jumbled. I think...I think....”

“What he's trying to say is he bound your soul to his body,” Xanadu sighs. “If you were alive, you'd just experience physical attraction and always running into one another but in death? He's keeping you tethered here as long as _he's_ alive.”

“How does that explain me interacting with things? Why you can see me?”

“You can interact because you're borrowing John's energy to do so. Anything you do that touches the corporeal world, you're feeding off of him. Think of yourself as a parasite if it simplifies it for you.”

“Hey!” you scowl.

“I'm just explaining,” her mouth quirks into a smile. “And you know why I can see you. Don't insult your own intelligence.”

Yeah yeah, Lady of the fucking Lake. Got it.

“I'm so sorry, luv,” John looks mortified, hiding his mouth behind his hands. “I don't know what to do. I've never botched something this badly before.”

“Madame Xanadu,” you address her directly. “Is there any way to put me back in my body?”

“Let me consult the cards,” she sits down and makes her tarot deck appear again. “Hold that question in your mind. Now touch three cards for me.”

You put your fingers over ones that feel like they're vibrating to you. You'd never believed in tarot cards before now but you could feel the energy they were putting out.

“Interesting,” she smiles. “The Hanged Man, sacrifice will be necessary, The Knight of Cups refers to matters of the heart but you can interpret that between yourselves. The World...you'll find completion one way or another.”

“So you don't know then?” you sigh. “It's all up in the air.”

“Let me choose one,” she plucks a card and smiles warmly. “The Star...there is hope. That is all I can give you.”

“Right well...thanks,” you lose your steam.

She hadn't really confirmed one way or the other. Maybe finding completion meant just moving onto the other side. Who knows?

“Come on, let's get back to the hotel,” John murmurs. “Cheers Xannie.”

“Next time, concentrate when you're spellcasting John,” she shakes her head. “How you got to be so prolific I'll never know.”

As you exited the shop and went onto the street, John wouldn't meet your eyes. He kept shuffling awkwardly, gaze resolutely fixed on the balconies of the opposite side of the street.

In fact, he didn't say anything at all all the way back to the hotel. You were left wondering whether he'd just given up or was too ashamed to talk to you any more.

When you got into the room, John peeled off the shirt that was practically transparent in places before flopping onto the bed and covering his face. He just heaves a great sigh, sits up and proclaims with a pained expression.

“Guess I'm gonna have to call Papa Midnite after all.”


	7. Follow The Leader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for Papa Midnite begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Angst, references to forced companionship
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)
> 
> \- NB xx

“Papa Midnite?” you sit on the bed, watching John fall further into a pity party. “That's the one you said you're not very close to?”

“To be fair, I'm not close to Xannie but Midnite and I have.....a strained relationship let's say. He tries to kill me, I try to kill him and sometimes we work together.”

“Right,” you process this information. “And where are you in this....circle of friendship right now? The work together stage?”

“Uh....more that I tried to kill him the last time I saw him,” John groans. “I'm gonna have to bloody grovel so hard. Little shit will love it.”

Silence hangs in the air and he's still very awkward at looking straight at you. You try to catch his attention by waving but he won't bite.

“Hey,” you put a hand on his thigh and he jumps at the contact. “Stop being in your own head. I don't blame you, you know.”

“You should do,” he mutters. “I cacked it up something royal, lass. I'm semi-bloody-immortal so I'm keeping you here for a long time if I can't fix it.”

“You'll find something,” you squeeze his leg, wondering if he can feel it. “We're one step closer than we were yesterday.”

“You don't understand,” he covers his face with his hands. “I feel so bad and then I think about how much fun you are and how stonkingly gorgeous you are and I feel even worse that I think if you _were_ bound to me for all eternity....it wouldn't be so bad.”

“Not very high praise when I've seen your taste in women,” you try to lighten the mood.

“Me taste in men is not much better either,” he sighs, staring at the ceiling. “Dumb and muscly.”

“God forbid you shag anyone with brains,” you're not even phased.

Of course John would fuck anything that moves.

“Would do if you were real,” he quips back and now you're finally breaking him out of his funk.

“Who says I'd let you?” you lean down.

In a flash of movement, he's hovering over you as you fall down onto the mattress in surprise. Careful not to touch you, you're sure you would be able to feel his breath fluttering against you if you were still alive. There's a phantom clench between your legs like you're imagining getting aroused.

“I think you would,” his voice is a little hoarse. “I think you'd love to know what I could do with me tongue when I'm not rabbiting on.”

The thought had crossed your mind. John would usually be a person that you would pass in the street after maybe giving an admiring glance to but after getting to know what a tragic mess he was and how unerringly charming he could be...you were starting to be attracted more and more to him...or was that just the magic? But when you looked into his dark eyes that were twinkling and the crooked smile he was giving you, you rather thought magic had nothing to do with it.

“I might have thought about it,” you say boldly.

“Fuck, luv, I wish I could right now,” he savages his bottom lip. “I would fucking love to make you cum so much that you pass out, worship your body all night. Wouldn't even care if I got off at all, would just want to see you enjoy yourself.”

“I'll hold you to that once I'm back in a body,” you smirk.

“Hold anything you like to me, lass,” he winks before rolling to the side. “You're really not mad that I fucked up?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I might have just outright died otherwise, I might have even got stuck in that air raid shelter. At least I get to have an interesting ride.”

“I might have prevented you from going to heaven,” John frowns.

“With my sexual escapades? I doubt they'd let me within ten feet of the gates,” you snort.

John places a hand where your waist is and jolts a little before pulling back and his eyes just widen, “Bloody hell, you're not kidding. Where the hell were you when I was a younger lad?”

“Why? Would've put on a ring on it by now or something?”

“Definitely a cock ring,” he laughs. “Lass, you really are something you know. Anyways, I need a cat nap before we start on. Midnite's moved his base to somewhere around the Bayou. Likes to be a right poncy git about his voodoo work.”

“Alright, put the telly on then,” you nod. “So I don't go nuts while you're asleep.”

“Sure thing,” he flips the remote on. “See you soon, gorgeous.”

**

When John woke up, you were pretending to be asleep yourself, letting your mind wander. It was just for a sense of normality.

“That's a pretty sight,” his voice is warm and still rasped with sleep. “Wouldn't mind that view every morning.”

“Charmer,” you smile, opening your eyes.

“Let me put me face on for the day and we'll get going.”

He moves to the bathroom and you openly follow, letching as he undressed and got in the shower. He noticed you were watching and made a great display of soaping up which you applauded like you were at a Full Monty show.

“You really are quality, luv,” he laughs, drying off and picking up a set of shorts and a t-shirt.

Seemed he'd learned his lesson about the Louisiana heat.

He took a taxi to the edge of the Bayou and did some backhander deal to get a boat before starting to punt along the water with you in the back. It was murky and, from the look of John's appearance, swelteringly hot.

“Bloody hell. I will be so glad once we're outta this place,” he grumbles. “I miss the cold rain.”

“I wish I could feel it,” you lean back in the boat, staring at the canopy of branches that dripped down over the water, dappling sunlight as they waved in the breeze.

“JESUS CHRIST!” John lurches suddenly to the side. “FUCKING INSECTS!”

“Are you alright?!”

“Mosquitos. Hope they enjoy demonic blood, little fuckers,” he slaps at his arms.

You may have imagined it but it seemed like there were tiny flames sprouting around him that dropped into the water suddenly. Maybe his blood was toxic.

“Is Midnite quite far in?” you ask.

“I don't know. I'll get his energy signature when I'm close. He never bothers to mask it,” John's attitude is getting grumpier the longer he steers the boat. “Arrogant twat that he is.”

“Tell me about him.”

“All I'll tell you is don't trust the sod,” John looks at you. “Won't be able to see you like Xanadu could anyhow so you don't need to worry. It's me he'll be after....and me testicles on a kebab skewer.”

“Well that'd be a crying shame if he gets his way,” you joke and you finally see him laugh, albeit grudgingly.

“Never met a girl who's a worse flirt than I am,” he gives you a raised eyebrow.

“And? What about it?”

“Like it,” he winks. “I'm picking something up. Must be getting close.”

You looked around at the murky water, buzzing with the tiny gnats that skipped over the surface, the trees that were becoming more and more gnarled and the light from above was gradually dimming. You could sense something too. If you had a body, the hairs on your arms would be standing on end.

“What is that?” you whisper. “It's feels....powerful.”

“I'm not...I'm not sure,” he trails off, standing up. “It's weird. Be on your guard, lass.”

The boat was just drifting now and it was eerily silent. Once second the wildlife was screaming into the morning sky and the next it had stopped just suddenly.

“What the fuck is going on?” John murmurs, looking worried before his eyes settle on something on the bank. “Oh shit.”

“What?” you're staring at the vines and the greenery and you couldn't see anyone.

“Uh....somebody else I pissed off.”

You still couldn't see anything but foliage.

“Where?!”

And then the foliage _moved_.

All the vines and leaves rose as one into a humanoid shape, towering higher than a normal man, perhaps ten feet tall. You could see the vegetation morphing into eyes and a mouth as a booming voice thundered across the Bayou.

“Constantine!”

The boat shudders to a halt like something's stopped its progress. John nearly falls out of it.

“Alright, mate?” he tries for nonchalant.

“You come into _my_ domain after your desecration the last time and now you bring a weapon with you?!”

“Weapon? What are you blathering on about?” John looks around.

“The soul you have with you. Do not think I'm idiotic John Constantine. Souls are tremendous energy. You affront me by being here,” the creature snarls.

“Look, I'm just tryna find Midnite, wherever he is,” John holds up his hands. “I want to detach the soul from me and put it back in its- sorry, _her_ body. I'm not here to pick fights. I need help.”

“And why should I let you continue to traverse my green?”

“What the hell is that?” you look at the bank in amazement.

“That's the Swamp Thing,” John explains hurriedly. “Linked to the Green, sort of like the living avatar of all plant life. I may have accidentally set fire to the oldest tree in the Bayou the last time I were here.”

“Do you ever do anything right?” you roll your eyes.

“Not the time, lass,” he hisses before addressing Swamp Thing. “If you let me go on me merry way, I won't come back. I made a mistake with this girl's soul and I need to fix it. I know you don't give two shits about human life but she didn't deserve this.”

“I wish to see her,” Swamp Thing rumbles. “I shall use The Green to make her a host body and then I shall hear the truth of the matter. I do not trust you, Constantine. You lie and you cause destruction wherever you roam.”

You were treated to the weirdest sensation of plants slithering out of the water, twisting over the lip of the boat before caging around your body. It was a feeling of being invaded, of something being stuffed down your throat before it melded your tongue down.

“Bloody hell,” John steps back in alarm.

“Girl,” Swamp Thing addresses you. “Tell me what you're here for.”

“To get back in my body,” you speak but it's deep and it's strained, like you've been speaking for hours without a break. “I was ripped from my body by accident. Please let us see Midnite.”

Swamp Thing sits crosslegged on the ground, thinking for a time, playing with the earth in front of him until flowers sprung up in colourful displays.

“Well?” John prompts him.

“On one condition shall I let you continue,” Swamp Thing looks up. “Many years ago, Constantine, you robbed me of the chance to be with the woman I loved. If you get this woman's body back, she shall be another embodiment of The Green.”

“Woah!” John instantly flies into a rage. “I am _not_ pimping her out so you can get laid! I already let you use me body once for that.”

“It is fair payment for all the trouble you have caused me over the decades. I do not say she has to lay with me, only that she should be a companion, a friend. If she chooses more, she shall have more and she shall want for nothing when nature is at her fingertips.”

“She's mine!” John roars.

“Then you shall go no further.”

“Bugger this, I'll go where I want and if you don't want me to burn this fucking place to the ground then I suggest you change your answer!”

“YOU DARE THREATEN ME?!” Swamp Thing stands up.

Roots shoot up from the water, wrapping around the boat and splintering the wood. John wobbles, flailing his arms to keep himself upright before a vine wraps around his middle and drags him under the water.

The foliage construction of your body keeps you above the surface as the boat drifts away in useless pieces.

“STOP IT!” you yell.

“He wanted to burn The Green. I did what I had to,” Swamp Thing wades into the river, still towering above you even with his legs submerged.

“You're killing him!”

“That's the intention.”

“Please stop! He's the only one who can help me!”

Swamp Thing says nothing. He just looks at you with an unreadable expression.

“I'll agree to be your companion, just don't let him drown!” you panic. “PLEASE!”

There's thrashing bubbles in the water, flashes of light where John is trying to fight off the roots. You're running out of time.

The creature is thinking again, “Do you swear it?”

“YES I SWEAR IT!”

Why wouldn't he hurry up?! He needed to give you an answer _now_!

From beneath the water, the bubbles were stopping and it was becoming still.

John's life depended entirely on what Swamp Thing was going to say next.


	8. Dead Man's Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Swamp Thing makes his decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: None
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)
> 
> \- NB xx

“Agreed,” Swamp Thing nods before he reaches into the water and picks up a half drowned John.

A boat appears out of vines and roots, flowers lining the rim as the Scouse disaster is dropped into it. He doesn't appear to be breathing.

“Is he...” you trail off.

“Unfortunately not,” Swamp Thing moulds his hand into a fine point before snaking it into John's throat until he starts convulsing, throwing up the water in his lungs in great retches. “I would not presume to be so lucky.”

You're gently put down as you move to John's side, placing a hand on his cheek and he tries to lean into it, seeking comfort as he coughs with a hacking wheeze. It takes him a good minute before he's able to string a sentence together.

“What....what did you...do?” he splutters.

“She made the deal that you couldn't,” Swamp Thing looks down with extreme distaste. “She agreed to be my companion once she returns to herself.”

“You stupid bloody moron!” John hisses at you.

“Because you dying is so much better?” you huff.

“Aye, it would be. At least you could pass on if I did,” he groans, sitting up. “Better than being his ' _companion_ ' forever and a day.”

“It's rather late for admonishment, Constantine,” Swamp Thing begins to move backwards, back towards the bank. “Papa Midnite resides on the centre island down the river. Head east and you will see his signage soon enough. Until we meet again, my dear.”

The creature nods gallantly at you before returning to the trees and blending until you couldn't pick him out any more. The boat starts moving of its own accord, speeding you away from him.

“Maybe there's a way we can get out of this?” you mutter to John who shakes his head violently and presses a finger to his lips, pointing at the boat.

It took a few times of this before you understood. Swamp Thing was connected to 'The Green' as he called it. He could hear you through the vines.

“But I made a promise,” you sigh, recovering yourself and John winks at you.

“That you did, lass. A stupid one but it has to be honoured,” he adds to the pretence before his face falls and you see his real feelings peeking through. “You do get yourself in some right messes because of me, don't you? Fucking hell, I should've never come into your life.”

“I was going to die because of that ghost, remember?”

“I still maintain it's better than this,” he gestures around himself before letting out a long breath and leaning backwards in the boat, moss cushioning his head. “Although I never would've gotten that adventure in the plane loos if you'd passed on. That were right memorable.”

You lean over and whisper directly in his ear, “You get me out of this and I'll give you something to truly remember.”

His eyes blow wide and he nods furiously, trying for a charming grin which failed to quite land how he wanted it to with his hair plastered to his head.

You both sailed on, with the daylight becoming more and more obscured until you were almost moving in darkness. The flowers Swamp Thing had gifted the boat with were your primary source of illumination, glowing softly in the gloom. Fireflies also darted about you, leaving bright trails in their wake.

“This isn't going to be good, is it?” you ask.

“Probably not,” John stands up, fireball in his hand to see better and he nearly falls backwards when dangling skulls are illuminated all around you. “Jesus, don't care much for his decorating. Bit Tim Burton.”

The further you got into the shadows, the more hostile the environment felt and you just want to turn tail and run the closer the boat sailed to the island. Something didn't want you here but it didn't look like John was feeling it. When the sensation started twisting at you, forcing you to move further and further back in the boat, John finally noticed.

“What's up with you?” he asks.

“I...god I feel like I can't....can't breathe.”

“You're dead, luv. You can't.”

“I know that!” you snap. “Just feels like it and....oh fuck.”

You're almost toppling over the side by now. When you look up, you can see a barrier and what's more, you see several pairs of eyes staring back at you, stuck at the same point.

“He must have a barrier spell up against spirits and souls,” John pushes his sopping hair back.”Bollocks. Lass I'm gonna have to leave you here whilst I go in. I can't let down the barrier just in case it's keeping something nasty out....or in....”

“Definitely out,” you're stood on the very point of the boat now. “There's things all along the edge. Please don't leave me here.”

“I have to. I don't know what's waiting. If I get rid of it, I could put us in even more of a bloody mess. Just step onto the water. You won't sink. I'll give you some lights.”

He throws the fireball into the air where it hangs like a miniature sun, blazing brightly and you can see just how many faces are glancing out of the water.

“How come they've sunk then?” you point.

“I can't see them. Probably drowned and they can't move from the river bed. Don't pay them any mind,” John's already passed through the barrier and you take a deep breath before standing on the surface of the water.

You don't sink but it's disconcerting to say the least.

“What if they attack me?” you call after him.

“Use me energy to hit them away. You've got me permission. I'll be back as soon as I can. Promise. I won't leave you lass.”

You believe him but you're not happy about it.

You watch him fade into the gloom, his new little fireball dimming into nothing more than a pinprick of light. You can't say at this point you weren't totally terrified. All you could hear was the muttering of the spirits, the burbling of the water and the rustling of wildlife.

“I wouldn't count upon him,” comes a rumbling voice and you look to your left to see Swamp Thing, the fiery light illuminating the glistening of his leaves. “He only makes things worse....especially in terms of love.”

The vines that make up your body tighten a little.

“Nobody said love,” you fold your arms, very uncomfortable right now.

“They didn't but it's very clear he's fond of you. He's usually much more willing to sacrifice those around him for his own ends.”

“So why make me agree to be a...whatever of The Green if he's fond of me?”

“Because he will destroy you if he comes to love you,” Swamp Thing looks off into the distance to where Papa Midnite's island was. “This is a way I can save you from him.”

“I don't want to be saved,” the words tumbled out.

“Dear one, I have known that man for decades. You will die at his altar if you continue and you will not have a chance to come back like you have now. Trust that I know what I'm talking about.”

“Does that mean you have the right to make that choice for me though?” you keep a wary eye on a ghost that's drifting closer to you. “I'm allowed to make dumb mistakes.”

“I see,” Swamp Thing flicks his arm and the spirit skitters backwards, glowering. “You are fond of him as well. It transcends your need for him to fix his error. That's why I need to help you even more.”

“Look, I know he's a bit useless, a bit rubbish and a complete idiot but he's kind and he tries and it's kind of endearing.”

“Your standards are woefully low,” Swamp Thing shakes his head. “Take my hand. I will show you my memories of him and maybe you'll understand why I wish to see you safe.”

“I don't know if I should....”

You'd seen some of John's memories already and you knew he wasn't perfect in the slightest but somebody else's opinion of him? Maybe you should take a look.

You take Swamp Thing's hand and are immediately blasted with images of John screwing various people over, destroying property and the environment and an awkward incident of Swamp Thing borrowing John's body to be with his long term girlfriend but John switching back halfway through.

You pull back, seeing, not a humanoid shape of leaves and vines, but a dark haired man with suave features and shrewd eyes. The image fades just as quickly as you see it.

“Alec,” your hand drops to your side. “Your name is Alec.”

“You saw more than I intended then,” he laughs, low and rumbling. “I was once called Alec, yes. I was a scientist until I wasn't a scientist any more. My body disintegrated in an explosion and merged with the bayou. I digress though, my point was to show you Constantine is not a good man.”

“Yeah well I don't care,” you say stubbornly.

“Don't think you can fix him.”

“I wasn't thinking that at all. I like how he is.”

“You'll forget about him in time if you intend to honour your promise,” he says seriously before batting away more ghosts that were daring to come near.

“I doubt it.”

“You're very wilful.”

“So I've been told.”

You stand in silence, staring into the impenetrable darkness for a time. You were beginning to get nervous that John wouldn't return. What if Papa Midnite tried to take revenge? Well you might smoke out of existence you guess but he could permanently incapacitate John in some way and you'd be stuck here forever.

“If he does not come back, I will take care of you regardless,” Swamp Thing says quietly. “I know you find me frightening but you don't need to. I won't harm you.”

“I'm just not used to John's world yet,” you murmur. “I only just discovered ghosts were real and everything else supernatural. Killed my first vampire yesterday.”

“You have been busy then,” Swamp Thing's mouth upticks. “The world is a lot bigger than you thought it was, hmm? It only gets larger I'm afraid. I still discover new things all the time.”

“And does it scare you?”

“All the time.”

That does nothing to comfort you. In the dying light of John's fireball, you're only becoming more anxious and when it finally peters out you're left in that oppressing darkness again wildly aware of what is a few feet away from you.

“Please don't leave my side,” you whisper to Swamp Thing.

You were never afraid of the dark before but now you knew what was out there and you had a good reason to change your stance.

“They won't come near you, not while I'm here,” Swamp Thing starts to luminescence, giving you some light back. “The bayou is my domain. They know better.”

“Why can you see them and not me unless you do the vine thing?”

“They've been here a long time, longer than I've been part of The Green. I absorbed their energy when I died. I know there are some spirits further up the other side that are new and I can't feel them so well. A lot of criminals dump bodies into the river hoping they'll be eaten. Your body is not here so I can't visualise you without a construct.”

Talking to Swamp Thing was keeping you distracted somewhat but your worry levels were going through the roof with how long it was taking John to come back.

“I look better in person,” you quip.

“I'm sure you do. Constantine has had some very attractive women chasing him in his time and I never understand it.”

“His taste has declined lately,” you think back to the chavvy looking girl he was fucking a few days back.

“Anything with a pulse,” you can hear the eye roll in his tone. “Not that I wish to offend you.”

“Not offended. Already told him off for it.”

“You are very curious indeed. Ah. He is returning.”

A speck of light in the distance grows larger and larger until you can see John coming back on the boat. He's not alone. The man stood next to him wears a coat with high quill feathers collaring his neck, no shirt but a necklace of bones and.....teeth were embedded into the cuffs of his jacket. The white paint across the top of his face was flaking around the edges, looking like he'd done it days ago and it illuminated in the light of the fireball to cast harsh shadows across the rest of his features.

If ever someone were to look like a master of Vodou, Papa Midnite would be the person you imagined.

“Is this her?” he appraises you as they draw to a halt. “She's a plant.”

“Swampy, let her breathe for a bit,” John asks.

“It has been nice speaking with you, dear one,” Swamp Thing nods, releasing you back to yourself before stepping back into the darkness, clearly trying to give you privacy.

“Those aren't real teeth, are they?” you look at Papa Midnite.

“Teeth?” John wrinkles his face in confusion. “What you on about?”

“His jacket.”

“He's wearing a suit, luv.”

“I'm not wearing either,” Midnite laughs, deep and full of bass. “You see me as you expect to see me. Although teeth is rather telling. It's closer to my actual form right now.”

“You mean all this time I've just been imagining you in various suits?” John scratches his head.

“Yes but we have more pressing matters to attend to,” Midnite turns to you before offering a hand to bring you into the boat.

“Oh no, not doing that,” you shake your head. “I've had enough of seeing people's memories.”

You get in the craft yourself, allowing Midnite to circle around you, inspecting you, waving his hand a few inches in front of you whilst muttering.

“You know, when good old Johnny here told me he'd made a grand mistake, I wasn't expecting it to be this catastrophically moronic.”

“Oi!” John growls.

“It's for the sake of amusement that I'm entertaining you right now,” Midnite grins at John. “Certainly not because you tried to lock me in a sarcophagus and bury me in the Gulf of Mexico.”

“Yeah well....everyone has their angry days,” John shrugs. “Can you help?”

“Oh yes, I can. I will have to modify an Anvwa Mo ritual but I can. The question is, are you prepared to surrender a part of your soul to do it?”

“What?” John pales a little.

“You stitched her soul to yours and if I separate them, it will not be clean. She will gain some of yours.”

“I don't have much of one left and even then, it's tainted.”

“Your choice, John,” Midnite shrugs, circling you and, to your astonishment, wending his fingers through your hair. “Mo, the dead are my speciality. Don't be so surprised I can touch you.”

“Less of that,” John comes closer.

“Unlike you, John, I don't want to fuck everything that crosses my path,” Midnite raises an eyebrow. “But I like this one's innocence.”

“I'm not innocent,” you say firmly.

“I'm not talking about your sexual desires, girl. I'm talking about the purity of your soul. There's such a delicate tinge of innocence, the swirl of maternalism, the spicy scent of fieriness, the splash of adventurousness. It's refreshing to see a soul so unjaded.”

“Alright, Midnite. That's a bit creepy like,” John butts in but before he speaks again, Midnite rounds upon him.

“Whereas yours is full of desperation, arrogance, nihilism and fear.”

“Never said I was a paragon of heroism,” he holds up his hands. “Just want you to stop talking about her soul like it's jailbait, now....how much soul could I lose?”

“A quarter of what you have left if it's smooth. Perhaps three quarters if it's not,” Midnite starts circling you again. “Depends how tightly your spell has woven them together. You're an imbecile, John but you're very powerful.”

“That's a lot,” John huffs and you think for a moment he might refuse to do it. “But worth it. My mistake, my sacrifice. Do it, Midnite.”

“You're getting soft in your old age, Johnny,” Midnite chuckles. “Actually saving people with no regard for yourself? My my, I thought I would never see the day.”

“Are you gonna give me a big lecture on growing up or are you gonna help?” John folds his arms.

“Take me to her body. I can find what I need in the city to do the ritual.”

“Will it hurt?” you ask quietly.

“No, sweet Mo, it will not because _I_ know how to do magic correctly,” Midnite pats your cheek.

You think John might attack the Vodou master but he takes a deep breath and calls out to Swamp Thing, “See you later then.”

“Remember her promise, John,” Swamp Thing rumbles from the shadows. “I'll guide your way back to urbanisation.”

The boat starts moving again and you sit down in it next to John, placing your hand on his leg for more your comfort than his.

“Will be nice to feel you properly soon,” he whispers to you with a smile before hissing in your ear. “And don't worry, I'll get you out of the agreement. I'll fix it. I'll fix everything, I promise.”

Despite what his memories told you, despite what Swamp Thing's memories had told you....you just knew he was being genuine.

Maybe by the end of the day you'll be back in your body and by god were you going to eat, drink and fuck as much as you could.


	9. Damaged Goods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Midnite's magic work?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Killing of an animal
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)
> 
> Happy reading!  
> \- NB xx

You were left with John in the hotel room as Midnite went to collect his ingredients.

The spectacle of the shirt turning back into your frozen stiff body in the odd contorted position gave you the creeps and even more so when John started warming your body. Seeing a more lively colour returning to your skin and your limbs loosening and flopping as you reached room temperature....let's just say if you weren't dead, you would be hurling your lunch right about now.

“All done,” John steps back.

“How can you be so calm around shit like this?” you gesture to yourself, lying in a puddle of melted frost.

“You see it enough, it becomes background noise,” he shrugs. “You're starting to do it yourself, you know. I bet Midnite would've scared your little socks off a couple of weeks ago.”

“Probably,” you admit, sitting down on the dresser.

“Excited to go back?”

“Fuck yeah,” you say quickly and he makes a snort. “And I'm heading straight down to Bourbon Street afterwards. I wanna do Louisiana night life properly.”

“Drinking contest?” John raises a mirthful eyebrow.

“You're on,” you laugh. “I just hope this doesn't erase my tolerance.”

John moves next to you, leaning over your form, “I hope you still can stand me once you're back in your body, luv. I've gotten really fond of you.”

“Must have if you're prepared to lose some of your soul.”

His face becomes very serious, “I wouldn't do this at all if I hadn't fucked up, don't think I'm some golden boy, lass. Me soul is...stained and it's broken. If I lose it, I turn into a demon and I could burn the whole world if I use me full extent of magic. I'm a timebomb if I don't look after it.”

“If it's that important, why risk it with me? In the grand scheme of the world, I'm nothing. I'm a stupid girl who throws herself into dangerous places without thinking for the thrills. I don't contribute anything.”

He tries to grip your face but sinks through and seems frustrated with himself for a second before placing his hands either side on the dresser instead, “Because if I thought that way all the time, I'd lose me frigging mind. Sometimes I need to save the one, I need to see directly that I can still do some good. I fucked up royally with you, luv, and I intend to put it right. Don't ever say you're nothing again though. You're amazing. I don't know anybody who'd be experiencing this who wouldn't be insane right now. You're so strong, lass and you really don't know how much of a slump you've pulled me out of. I know we know bollocks about each other but your personality is just...infectious really.”

“Why? I'm just-”

“-I said don't put yourself down,” he cuts you off. “Jesus, you're very self deprecating. And you're very optimistic, funny and one of the most sexually open birds I've come across in a long time. When you're alive again, I wanna get to know you more. What do you say? Feel free to tell me to piss off if my lifestyle scares you, by the way.”

“Are you kidding?!” you exclaim. “I've met vampires and the Lady of the Lake and swamp monsters and voodoo masters. This is amazing!”

“It's amazing because you're imperturbable right now. Might not be so fun when you can actually die.”

“Done that, wasn't as bad as I thought it was gonna be,” you grin and he rolls his eyes. “Listen John, I used to view the world through a lens but since I died, I'm experiencing so much more and it's terrifying and fantastic at the same time.”

“Aye, I guess it's a bit better than being glued to Instawhatsit,” John acquiesces.

“And I like you too, for what it's worth.”

“Oh I knew that,” he smirks, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Your voice and Swampy's carry. I try and I'm endearing, eh?”

“Shut up.”

“And you don't care I was a dickhead in the past.”

“I said button it.”

“Can't fool me, lass,” he laughs. “You were _very_ defensive about me to Swampy.”

Before you can give him a savage retort, Midnite returns with his arms laden with items and a cage tucked under his arm with a rooster in it.

“Do me a favour whilst I paint the Baron's cross on the wall, John,” Midnite starts setting up. “Make the bed into mats and place her body on one and you will lie down on the other. Put the herbs in a bowl in between you and set it on fire.”

“Isn't that going to set off the smoke alarm?” you ask and Midnite bursts into laughter.

“Very conscientious aren't you, little Mo?” he reaches up and rips the smoke alarm from the ceiling. “There. Now we will not be interrupted. This is not an ideal space but it's what we have. Remember, little Mo, this might not work in the end. I might just send you on instead but at least the ties will be severed.”

“I understand.”

“Brave,” he nods in approval. “John, fetch some ice from downstairs.”

“Ice?” John's just morphed the beds into mats. “Why the bloody hell do you need ice?”

“It's warm in here and the AC is broken. I need a cold drink.”

“Oh bloody hell,” John shakes his head. “What am I? Your servant?”

“Would that I be so lucky,” Midnite sighs to the heavens. “At least it would stop your incessant cycle of trying to kill me then begging for my help.”

“Oi, sometimes you need my help too.”

“Rarely.”

“Still need it,” John says petulantly before walking out of the room.

“Now he's gone,” Midnite arranges your body on the mat. “Tell me if you really want to come back to life or if you want to crossover. I don't trust anything Constantine says these days.”

“I want to come back if that's possible,” you stand up. “I feel like I've just started living.”

“Death is cruel and non-discriminatory,” Midnite's white paint move further down his face until there's a skull motif across the whole of it. “Are you going to continue being Constantine's companion when you return? I only mention because I could get you out of the agreement with Swamp Thing.”

“And what would be the catch?”

“You would agree to come under my tutelage. It is rare to find an innocent soul and that holds the strongest potential for Vodun magic.”

“So you want me for what I can do for you?”

“Shrewd, aren't you?” the grin is unnerving. “Staying with John will only end with you becoming part of the The Green. Staying with me will mean you will be given access to whatever you desire. If you wanted to become a queen amongst men, I can teach you that. I would just ask for your services in return.”

“I can't even handle _one_ man let alone several,” you quip, feeling immensely uncomfortable.

If the reaction John had about his soul was anything to go by, you doubted you should let Midnite get his hands on yours if you could help it.

“Think it over,” he bows graciously. “And the Baron may make you a similar offer.”

“The Baron?”

“Baron Samedi, little Mo. He watches over the spirits. He doesn't often like those who straddle the world of the dead and the living. He does not often appear but for you, I think he will. Be prepared and remember he won't let you return without a good argument.”

John comes back with a bucket of ice as Midnite finishes his painting on the wall. You briefly think John's going to have to pay for this room to be completely renovated after this.

Much to your astonishment, Midnite drops a can of Mountain Dew into the bucket and gives you a half shrug before getting the rooster out of the cage. John lies down after giving you an encouraging smile and the ritual begins.

You make a noise of shock as Midnite slits the rooster's throat, letting the blood spill all over your body and then over to John's. John winces as it splatters over him but doesn't move.

As Midnite chants, you can feel the atmosphere becoming darker. The corners of your vision were blackening and the lights in the hotel room spluttered and died. Even the evening sun outside couldn't penetrate the gloom. Mist was appearing on the floor, coating everything except your body and John's.

Fires spring up in the corners of the room, reminding you of Midnite's boundary in the bayou. Something was coming, you could feel it.

The first giveaway that someone was behind you was the very faint rustle of your hair and the smell of cigars, that heavier tobacco scent. Nothing since you'd died had ever had such an effect on you as that breath that seemed to move up along your neck and stop at the nape.

You wanted to shiver but couldn't. You wanted to scream but couldn't. All you saw before you was the luminescent skull paint on Midnite that seemed to float in the air and even John receded to darkness on the floor.

“Lost Mo, tethered Mo, trapped Mo,” someone speaks directly against your ear, the accent heavily dripped with a French twang. “What a mess you are.”

A bottle of rum is thrust into your hand from Midnite and you just instinctively know to pass it behind you.

“Do you know who I am lost Mo?” the man asks.

“Baron Samedi?”

“Yes.”

There's the sound of the rum being uncorked and a few gulps before it is pressed to your lips and you take a drink, stunned that you're able to.

“I don't like mistakes,” Baron Samedi's voice is bordering on annoyance. “A soul trapped between worlds, linked to a near immortal. There is no order in this.”

“Can you help me?”

“And where does my innocent Mo want to go? Life or death?”

“To life.”

“And why should I let you?” there's a soft kiss to your cheek before Baron Samedi moves around you and you're face to face with him.

He's taller than Midnite, same sort of paint on his face but the eyes...they gleamed pure white but somehow you could still discern where he was looking by the pupils. His dress sense was more ostentatious also, a top hat decorated with feathers and a full suit.

You could even smell the smoke and alcohol in wafts around him with something older, something that reminded you of earth and stone.

“I might have lived if John hadn't messed up the spell. This was an accident. I deserve another chance to live.”

“All say that,” he tsks with a wag of his finger. “Tell me what you intend to do if I return you to life. How will you celebrate it?”

You cast a look down at where you think John is but Samedi uses one hand to tip your chin back up.

“He can't hear, child. Tell me your truth. What is your dearest desire?”

“I want to live. I _truly_ want to live. I was just getting by, not experiencing anything, not really feeling anything. I created this fakeness around me that I had the perfect life but it wasn't until I got killed that I realised how much is out there. I want to explore it all, I want to see all the hidden things in the world. I want to drink until I pass out, eat until I'm rolling, fuck until I'm ruined. I want to start living.”

“It takes a jolt of death for those to remember life is a gift,” Samedi appraises you. “Again, that is not a rare argument.”

You were losing hope. If that heartfelt confession did nothing then maybe you were destined to go on instead. As much as you'd miss John, if it had to be, it had to be. You always knew it might end up this way.

“If you don't think I'm worthy of it, then let me pass on. I can only tell you what I told you.”

“And your truth shines,” Samedi grins. “I can see it in your spirit. There is no greed, no cowardice. You want to have adventure. This is what makes your argument rare. Your intentions not your words. I shall give you another chance, child but it shall rip some of this man's soul to do it. Does he agree?”

“I think he does.”

Samedi looks down and John comes back into focus, “Do you agree?”

“To what?” John blinks like he's just woken up.

“The separation of your souls.”

“Yes. Do it,” John sounds resolute.

“Very well. Lost Mo, lie down in your body.”

You oblige, feeling very strange as you seem to look out from your own corpse. You don't get much time to adjust as suddenly you feel a pressing sensation all around you, like your essence was being squeezed.

John starts screaming in agony next to you and you wonder if you've done the right thing. You can't even call out to him because you're so compacted the words can't escape.

There's a flash of blinding light and the sensation of being wrenched with a tremendous pull before you flop limply, the creeping foreignness of.... _something_ invading your being before it settles. John falls silent, whimpering a little in residual pain.

White hot, almost burning anguish flares in you and then finally......

“Awake, child. It is done,” Baron Samedi's head is looking over you as he bends down. “Enjoy your second life. Make it count. I will see you again when your final time comes.”

He presses a kiss to your lips before vanishing and all at once you become hyper aware of everything. The scratchy mat underneath you, the smell of herbs, the heaviness of your own limbs.

You shoot up, flailing into a sitting position, making an indeterminate shout, your chest heaving with breath.

You were alive!

“It worked!” you try out croakily, your vocal cords underused.

You scramble to your feet, nearly crashing into the wall as you find your feet and Midnite just gives you a wry smile before packing away his ritual items. John is still on the mat and you stagger over, dropping to your knees and shaking his unconscious form.

“Hey, wake up!”

Gradually his eyes flicker open and he groans as he stretches, “I don't ever recommend doing that again, luv. Felt like I went through a bloody meat tenderiser. Me soul is battered.”

“How much do you have left?” you ask quickly.

He takes a minute to assess, light sparking from his fingers as he runs them over his torso and then lets his head drop back, “You've got a quarter of it by all counts. So it worked?”

“Find out.”

He stretches up his hand, almost apprehensive and when his palm makes proper contact with your cheek, it's the biggest smile you've ever seen on him.

“You're alive!” he laughs loudly and happily before sitting up and hugging you tightly. “Oh my god, it worked! It actually worked! I can touch you!”

He pulls back, finally taking your face in his hands, “Hello you.”

“Hello,” you smile back, positively beaming.

“Midnite, you are a legend,” John gets to his feet, seeming to revel in the fact he can pull you to yours too. “Thank you.”

“I suppose I did owe you for the hellhound assist,” Midnite is all packed away. “And what say you, girl? Still want to affix the albatross of Constantine around your neck?”

“Yes but thank you for the offer and thank you for everything you've done.”

“Very well,” Midnite nods. “Good luck breaking your ties with Swamp Thing. I shall take my leave.”

The last you see of Papa Midnite was the white paint receding back up to the top half of his face as he grabs his chilly Mountain Dew, cracks it open and saunters out.

“What offer?” John narrows his eyes.

“Said he'd get me out of Alec's deal if I became his student. I didn't trust it though.”

“Smart bird,” John mutters. “You don't wanna go down the Vodou path, luv. Too much can go wrong if you're not prepared.”

“So what now?”

“Now, I clean the room up and we go to Bourbon Street like you wanted,” he waves his hands, muttering and the room goes back to its previous state. “The lady wants a drink, yes?”

“Damn right I do.”

“I can't believe it,” John's eyes sparkle, almost teary eyed. “We did it. Guess I can't call you Gee any more.”

“Oh it might stick as a nickname, you never know,” you laugh. “Won't Swamp Thing be expecting us to go back now?”

“He didn't give a time frame, you know,” John shrugs. “Come on, let's enjoy a bit of life. We've been through enough.”

“I really should change if you have anything I can wear. These clothes have been defrosted and I think there's some blood on my shorts.”

“Aye, go freshen up. Then we'll hit the town.”

After you got out of the best shower of your life, John had left one of his shirts and something that looked suspiciously like suit pants that had been shrunk and cut into shorts. You dressed in them, doing a few buttons of the shirt but otherwise tying the two ends to make it something cropped.

It was far too warm to have it fully out. You appreciated why John had been so grumpy now in the heat.

It was stifling.

“Ready,” you step out.

“Shit,” his jaw drops a little. “Never knew a bird could make me threads look so enticing. Christ....want me to get any makeup or owt for you?”

“Don't need it, do I? I'm not trying to impress anyone. You're already impressed.”

“And I thought _I_ had an ego,” he snorts. “But you're right. Stunning no matter what, so let's get wankered, shall we?”

You walk up to him and hold up your palm, waiting for him to do the same. It takes him a moment to catch on and he presses his against yours. You lace your fingers through his, relishing the contact.

He's smiling shyly before he uses your linked hands to pull you out of the room, out of the hotel and into the bustling nightlife of New Orleans.


	10. Ever Fallen in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the first day of your second life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Smut
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> \- NB xx

It must have been a parade day because the streets were chock full of performers, loud live music and the thrilled clapping of tourists stood at the side, snapping picture after picture.

You might have been one of those people once, viewing the world through a lens, picking the perfect composition, seeking the best lighting, deciding on filters.

Not now.

Now you were in the moment, you were pulling John excitedly, weaving in and out before coming to a bar selling enormous cocktails in lurid green plastic glasses. Here is where you wanted to start but as you reflexively pat for your card purse, you stop, laughing at how stupid that habit was when everything was back at your home across the pond.

“Sorry, I just realised you'll be paying for everything if we do this,” you bite your lip, feeling embarrassed.

“No skin off my nose,” he shrugs. “Aye you've been an expensive mistake, no denying, but I'm not hard up, lass. Go bonkers and when we get back, you can buy me a nice bottle of gin.”

“If you're sure.”

John just sighs in exasperation before pushing you, by laying two hands on your rear, towards the bar before he not so subtly squeezes a handful.

“Oi,” you laugh. “Drink first, groping later.”

“Is that a promise?” his eyes twinkle.

“You'll find out.”

“Don't get me excited in public. Bloody awkward enough the last time.”

“You weren't complaining in the plane loos.”

“Don't 'spose I was but still, calm down,” he smiles fondly. “It's the only start of the night.”

He passes you a drink and you clink it against his before drinking greedily. He looks a little alarmed at the speed which you are knocking it back but you just wink as you reach the bottom.

“I'm alive, John,” you meet his silent reproach. “Told you I was gonna go to excess.”

“Good job I can deal with hangovers magically then, eh?” he shakes his head, ordering you another.

After about three of these and some general chit chat, you're pulling him outside again, practically jumping with excitement. He tries to look aggrieved but he can't hide the smile that says he finds you adorable.

Once outside, you hit the great throng of dancing locals, dancing tourists, dancing parade professionals and the atmosphere is just so infectious. You don't even realise John has his arm slung around your shoulders until you're slightly knocked into him by a drunken girl on her hen party.

“Come on, let's see something else!” you yell over the din and he just nods, letting you lead the way.

You grab his hand to keep hold and his grip is tight as you wend in and around. You're stopped by someone with strings of multicoloured beads.

“Want one?” he asks.

“Woah, wait a minute, luv,” John stops you. “You know it's tradition to flash your tits if you take those, right?”

“Is it?!” you say in awe before the guy just nods, laughing his head off.

You see John relax as your hand drops down but he's not prepared in the slightest for when you lift his shirt you're wearing up, giving him an absolute eyeful.

“JESUS CHRIST!” he exclaims, trying to shield you from view from the street.

The guy with the beads doubles over with a fit of giggles before thrusting about five necklaces into your hands as you make yourself presentable. You just sling about three over your head before putting the remaining two over John's.

“Live in the moment, right?” your hands linger.

“Where the hell have you been all my life?” he grins. “Fucking hell you are something, lass. Where to now?”

You look around, spotting a karaoke bar, “Remember when I got your memories? I know you sing. How about it?”

“I've smoked a lot of ciggies since then, you know.”

You just roll your eyes before grabbing onto the beads and using those to drag him along. You weren't giving him a chance to revert back to that grumpy idiot you'd first met.

Once in the bar, you order the strongest thing they have, thinking he needs dutch courage. He drinks it with a wince and a grimace but still manages it.

“Are you tryna get me pie-eyed here?” he coughs a little.

“Just want you to loosen up a bit!” you smile.

And he does. Once that drinks settles around his brain, the change in him is astonishing. For a start, he signs up to sing, takes off his tie and slings it around his head like he's some glam rocker. You undo some of the buttons on his own shirt to really sell the aesthetic, trailing your fingers down his chest which earns a burning look but his name was already being called.

“Next is John singing Promises by Def Leppard!”

“Oh my god I love that song!” you jump up and down.

“Sing it with me then,” he offers out a hand.

“Deal. Excuse the bad pipes then.”

“Let's just have some fucking fun.”

Maybe it was the energy you and John were giving off, that kind of giddy exhilaration, the strong sexual tension but most people got up off their seats to dance as you and him went at it. He was a born performer, strutting around and you found yourself matching his movements.

“ _I won't make promises that I can't keep, I won't make promises that I don't mean, I'll even mean the things I tell you in my sleep, yeah, I won't make promises babe, that I can't keep.”_

When he hits the high note absolutely perfectly, you straight up applaud him which seems to boost his confidence to stratospheric levels. He pulls you in to sing into the same mic for the last verse and once it's done, you have some cheers but it's drowned out as you stare at John and only John as his hand comes around your waist and he dips you down before letting you back up and you share your first ever kiss in front of a raucous crowd.

“Let's bounce,” he cockily smirks. “Every street we pass back to the hotel with a bar, we'll drink one thing.”

Now he was the one leading _you_. Still with the tie around his head, his shirt dishevelled and his absolute joy radiating out, you wind back to the hotel, sometimes joining in with the parade and dancing along.

Every so often he'll pull you into an alcove where he hungrily kisses you to within an inch of your life and you almost get his trousers off then and there in the street.

By the time you make it back to the room, you're covered in dayglo neon paint and people's spilt drinks as you accidentally stumbled into them. The shirt is nearly see through which John takes great delight in staring at.

“Now, I remember some cheeky lass telling me about all the things she might do to me if she got back in a body,” he shuts the door and locks it.

Clearly he isn't expecting it when you push him against the door, pinning his arms there and kissing him furiously. You remember he said he likes to be in control. Well tough, he had a fight on his hands.

You start undoing his belt rapidly, unzipping his trousers and pushing them down along with his boxers before dropping to your knees. He watches with rapturous interest.

“Shitting hell, I didn't expect you to be so eager,” he blinks.

“Are you kidding me? You've been working me up the whole way back here,” you raise an eyebrow before letting your tongue lathe up the underside of his very hard cock.

“Randy little thing, aren't you?” he laughs. “Fuck that feels good.”

His head rolls back, thunking against the door as you take him into your mouth, using every trick you can, trying to make him lose his composure. You're rewarded, as you feel him hit your throat, with a coarse groan and his fingers carding through your hair.

“I hope this isn't the last time I get to experience this because fuck me,” his voice breaks on the last couple of words. “You're gonna have to stop, I'm too excited. Not ready to end this yet.”

You let his cock leave your mouth with a soft pop as he helps you to your feet before ripping your shirt apart and twirling you so now your back is flush with the door. He lavishes attention all over your skin, letting his tongue swirl around your pebbling nipples, desperate for touch.

When his fingers undo the improvised shorts and push them down, they glide between your legs and you've never seen a more shit eating grin on a man.

“That all for me, darlin'?”

“Yeah, gonna do something about it?” you challenge.

“Oh you and I are gonna have so much fun,” he chuckles darkly before he moves his fingers through the soaked mess and starting to gently stroke your clit with the ease of someone who's done it many times before. “But you're not in control here, lass and I'll show you just that.”

“Bring it.”

“Cocky little madam,” he tuts. “I'll remember that when you're begging me for release.”

The touch is featherlight, maddening in a way and it shouldn't be as good as it felt. The hitches of pleasure at his circling fingers had you clutching onto his shoulders as your legs tried not to shake.

How the fuck was he doing this?! You'd never been this sensitive before.

“I can see it in your eyes,” he's watching your face intently. “Nearly there, aren't you?”

You nod and just before that tipping point of no return, he moves away from you completely.

“What?!” you blurt out. “Get back here!”

“Nah,” he teases, walking backwards slowly. “Come get it if you want it.”

“Bastard!” you launch yourself forward, intent on tackling him but your world spins as he dodges, grabs you and deposits you on the bed.

You sprawl, legs flying as he grabs them, yanks you to the edge of the bed, pushes them apart and drops to his knees himself.

“Told you,” he laughs. “Besides, I like making girls cum on my mouth more.”

Within seconds, his tongue is flicking against you and your hands are fisting in the bed sheets, lewd moans bursting out of you as you struggle to get control of your panting.

“You're right, by the way, I much prefer the noises you make,” he winks before suckling at your clit and you nearly jolt off the mattress.

You're within a hair's breadth of cumming before he pulls away again, intent on making you beg but you just grab him by the head and pull him back and he obliges with a low rumbling chuckle.

You can't remember ever having an orgasm this good. It washes across the whole of you as you twitch against his mouth, unabashedly loud and entirely satisfied.

“A man could get addicted to you very quickly, luv,” he surfaces before moving over the top of you and pausing. “You want this? You want me? Not just because I helped you?”

You move back and he seems confused for a second before you flip him over and straddle him, one hand gripping his cock to line it up with your still twitching entrance and one placed on his chest.

“What do you think?” you lower yourself, gasping without shame as he stretches you out. “Fuck!”

“Jesus, you're tight,” his hands grip your thighs tightly. “I think....I think I don't often let girls ride me so you show me what I'm missing.”

You waste no time getting a rhythm, grinding, getting the full length of him pressed against that one spot. He helps you move, supporting your thighs as you take what you want from him. His rough grunts are interspersed with filthy praises as you go hard, chasing another orgasm, overstimulated from the last one and as you hit that second peak, he rolls you under him, rutting with complete abandon into you so you're screaming as you clench around him.

“Fuck I love that sound,” he growls.

What surprises you is how he slows the pace down, supports himself on his elbows and starts kissing you languidly whilst rolling his hips in a way that was very different but very intimate. You got then how touch starved he was, how much he was craving affection and you gave it back to him, holding him to you, meeting his slow thrusts.

This was the most passion you'd felt from anyone and it was only heightened by being dead for so long. You didn't even realise until he brushed tears away from your cheek that you were crying but you weren't sad, you were just experiencing emotion more fully than ever before.

“I feel it too,” he whispers, never breaking stride. “I'm close, lass. Where?”

“Keep going,” you catch his meaning. “We'll deal with it later. I want to feel this completely all the way. Give me everything, John.”

You feel him push deep, so deep your legs involuntarily squeeze around him and he cums with a stuttered moan.

For a while, neither of you move. He's just nestled by the crook of your neck, one palm against your face, just contentedly holding.

“Thank you,” you regain your senses. “For giving me tonight.”

“No, thank _you_ ,” he lifts his head, eyes so serious. “I've not been this happy for a long long time, Gee.”

“Don't let Alec have me,” you whisper.

“Never. Know why? Because _I_ want you, all to myself as selfish as that is. I don't want this to be the end of our story.”

“I really like you, John,” you blurt out, alcohol and exhaustion bringing the truth out of you.

“Aye, I know,” he smiles affectionately. “I really like you too. We'll sort out the last bit of mess tomorrow. Tonight, tonight let's just enjoy each other. Roll over, luv. Big cuddler here.”

You do just that as he spoons into the back of you, pulling you close and caging you in his arms. Pressing a kiss to your cheek, he settles down behind you.

For the first time in a long while, you start to drift off to sleep, both content and also anxious about returning to the bayou.

You didn't want your life to be over just as it had begun. You wanted to share in John's life. You wanted to experience it all, all the horrors, the heroics, the fuck ups. Him.

_Please, please don't let me become part of The Green._


	11. London Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just exactly is John going to get you out of the deal with Swamp Thing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So welcome to the final chapter.  
> This was never going to be as long as Rockabye but I hope you had fun with it all the same <3
> 
> Warnings: Minor smut, Peril
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)
> 
> Much love, NB xx

The mood as you took a boat back to the Bayou was sombre.

John had spent the entire morning kissing you to within an inch of your life and raining sweet promises in your ear about where he'd take you, what he wanted to show you in the world but that mood was gone as you got closer to Alec's home.

So far, John hadn't shared his plan with you and from his frantically nervous reactions, you weren't entirely sure he had one. Maybe he didn't. From his memories he seemed like the king of winging it.

“Listen, luv,” he says urgently when you're not far away. “Just trust me. It's gonna seem like I haven't a bleeding clue. Roll with it, okay?”

“John, what are you going to do?”

“Can't tell you. Reactions need to look believable.”

“John-”

“I know. I know,” he holds up a hand. “Please, lass, just trust me.”

“Alright,” you settle into the boat, feeling anxious.

He leans across, giving you a gentle peck on the lips before steering the boat to the bank where you last saw Alec.

“Swampy? You here?” he yells.

Nothing but the buzzing of insects and the chirping of other wildlife answers him. For a moment you think he won't come but then you hear something rustling, twisting and you step out onto the bank just as Alec materialises out of the floor of the swamp.

“You actually brought her to me,” Alec raises a vined eyebrow. “I thought you would run and I would have to pursue you.”

“I said I would bring her back,” John unsticks his shirt from his chest. “I'm not the same arrogant toerag I was.”

“She's changed you,” Alec nods wisely. “She will make a fine avatar of The Green. It has needed a caring influence for a long while.”

“And you're not caring?” you ask.

“Do not mistake me, I care deeply for The Green. I just do not have a maternal instinct to imbue it with. You have cared for Constantine this whole time, am I wrong?”

He addresses the question to John who just nods mutely.

“Are you ready, little one?” Alec asks you.

“No,” you admit readily. “You must know I don't want this.”

“That will pass. You will know such a peace, you will be able to create life with your fingertips, you will see only beauty for the rest of your days.”

You look to John desperately and the action doesn't go unnoticed. Alec just sighs.

“You harbour feelings for him?”

“Yes,” you nod, not taking your eyes away from John who looks incredibly guilty.

“Is there nothing else we can do?” John's voice is quivering with the effort to hold his emotions together.

“You also harbour feelings for her?” Alec says in surprise.

“'Course I bloody do,” John hisses. “Who wouldn't? If you take her from me now, I'll never get the chance to know whether it would've become love, _proper_ love. I'm not talking about my bedpost notches. This is something much much more and I'm already falling, truth be told Swampy. I know you don't give a toss and you don't believe me but if there's anything else I can do, I'll do it. I don't want to lose her.”

“Compassionate and eloquent. She really has broken your grey cloud,” Alec nods. “But a promise was struck and a promise must be kept. You may visit her, spend time with her, even live here if you wish but you cannot have her as she is now.”

“Please,” you hate begging but maybe somewhere in those branches is a heart still. “Alec, please.”

“It is time.”

Vines shoot out of the ground to restrain John and Alec grabs your hand in his. You're coated in foliage that presses hard on all sides. Something is pulsing in the leaves and you feel it start to sink into your body, leeching through the pores. You can't scream or cry out but you can hear John shrieking like a man possessed through the dense wall.

Then, all of a sudden, the wall retracts with a screech that nearly deafens you and you fall arse first into the water now the support is gone. You flounder as a pair of hands drags you out and you come up spluttering.

“TRICKERY!” Alec booms, the ground vibrating. “YOU HAVE TRICKED ME!”

“I did nothing of the sort, mate,” John pulls you to a safe distance away. “You heard Midnite, part of me soul would be ripped off in the exchange. Nobody said it would be the part that was free from the demonic taint.”

“ALL THIS TIME, YOU KNEW! YOU LET ME TRY ANYWAY!”

“Calm down, Swampy. You know what I am and you heard what the process for bringing her back was gonna be. You can't be pissed off because you didn't put two and two together, you great salad.”

Thorns have erupted all along Alec's body and he's bristling with anger. Was this really John's plan all along? He knew you couldn't be absorbed by The Green because your soul was stained?

That was all well and good but now you had an angry embodiment of a talking Triffid that just got short changed in front of you.

You're yanked away from John by roots on the ground and held up in the air, dangling upside down by your ankles.

“Put her down now!” John yells.

“There _is_ something you can do for me, Constantine,” Alec grins and you don't like it very much. “You can retrieve the Everseed that Jason Blood stole from me.”

“Fine! Whatever, just put her down!”

“There are conditions. This has to be achieved in twenty-four hours or she will die, permanently. I will not be cheated and I will _not_ be humiliated. You have done this to me far too often to spare any more good will to.”

“What do you mean she'll die?”

You weren't prepared for something being forced down your throat. That something wriggles in your chest as you try not to choke around whatever it was and there's an uncomfortable sensation of heart burn but you have a feeling it's going to be much worse than that. Suddenly you can breathe again and you're placed back on the floor.

“What did you do to me?!” you demand.

“There's a sapling around your heart. If you don't fulfil your task, it will crush it.”

“I haven't done anything to you! I was nice to you! Why are you doing this?” you smack him on the leg as hard as you can and he swots you away like you're nothing.

“This is why I have given you the mercy of having a quick death. You will barely feel it.”

“This is too far, Swampy,” John growls, standing in front of you, guarding you. “Why shouldn't I just burn everything down where we stand?”

“I'll kill her before you can accomplish that.”

“You evil fucking pot plant! She's innocent in all of this!”

“Then do something heroic for once, Constantine and save her life properly this time. I tire of your whining. Get it done.”

He melts into the grass and John lets out a howl of frustration before coming to you, “I am so sorry, luv. I didn't think he'd react this way.”

“We don't have time to throw around blame. Where is this Jason person and what's an Everseed?”

“Jason Blood, another occultist. Worked together a few times in the past. Has a literal demon that he shares his body with. The Everseed is something Swampy used to guard. It can be used to produce any kind of grown thing indefinitely and instantly.”

“Isn't that good for world hunger?”

“Not if it's used by Jason to have access to spell ingredients for. It can be twisted too, to ruin any kind of vegetation. Now imagine that in the hands of some despot. Starvation as a form of terrorism.”

“Shit, okay. I get it now. Right, let's get to him then.”

“Maybe I can get the sapling out before-”

But just after these words had left his mouth, you felt something squeezing your heart and you forgot to breathe. You just collapsed into the mud, clawing at your chest.

“Alright alright!” John panics. “We'll go to Jason! Fuck me!”

Then the pain eases and you take a deep shuddering breath, “Don't do that again.”

“Still think me world is all fun escapades?” he shakes his head. “It's often mortal peril all the bloody time.”

“Shut up and take me to Jason. I want to see what a demon looks like.”

“Still not put off? Blimey, I'm not sure if you're brave or cracked at this point.”

“Being dead is a bit of a perspective changer.”

John pulls out a battered world map from his trenchcoat and puts it down before swinging a crystal on a string over it in great wide arcs. After muttering a spell where the only word you catch appears to be 'Etrigan' the crystal slams down in North America.

“New York,” John muses before dragging a map of New York out of his coat too.

“How many maps do you have?!”

“A few,” he answers cagily. “They come in handy.”

When he waves the crystal again, it points to one particular street.

“Right, so he's still in that poncy penthouse then,” John mutters. “This should be fun. Stick close to me, lass. Don't do anything heroic. Jason's temperamental....Etrigan more so.”

“Is that the demon?”

“Aye, and....for god's sake, don't laugh at his rhymes. He doesn't like being laughed at.”

“Noted. So do we fly then?”

“Not got time. I'll have to make a portal. Hate the bloody things but needs must when Swampy's got your heart in his hands.”

He makes grand gestures with his hands that seem to spark orange before a whirling hole appears that looks out into a grand library streamed with sunlight.

“Let's go and....I'll dry you off first.”

Within seconds, your outfit was as good as new and he took your hand before dashing through the portal and you felt the temperature change to something more manageable. It made you shiver a little before you adjusted.

“There's such a thing as knocking, John,” comes a stern voice, one that had an air of old Transatlantic film stars.

You look around to see a sharply dressed man in a grey suit with a dark turtleneck. One pure white streak marred his otherwise dark hair and his eyes were shrewd and piercing.

“Time was of the essence, mate,” John replies. “I need the Everseed back.”

“And why would I relinquish it back to Swamp Thing who does nothing with it? It's wasted on him.”

“Because he's going to kill me girl if I don't and I'd rather that didn't happen.”

Jason's gaze falls upon you and he walks over until he's a foot away from you before his hand sparkles with red light and he waves it over you.

“What did you do to annoy him this time?”

“Wouldn't let him take me bird away from me to be part of The Green.”

“He's still on that ridiculous quest for a female avatar?” Jason rolls his eyes. “He'd have a better chance at finding a lost tourist for that, not one of your paramours. He had to have known you'd swindle him.”

“Maybe but I need the Everseed now, Jason.”

“It doesn't concern me what happens to your lovers, John. They die all the time. I went to great lengths to take the Everseed.”

“You can always steal it back,” John frowns. “This is the only favour I've ever asked of you. Help me out here.”

“No.”

“Please. I already died once. I don't fancy doing it again,” you speak up and Jason's interest piques just a little.

“My dear, you're simply just not worth my time. It's unfortunate, you're young and beautiful but that is the way of the world. It's inherently not fair.”

“Not fair my arse,” you hiss, closing the gap and, against your better judgement, punching him in the face. “I still matter, you magical prick.”

“Gee, you really shouldn't have done that,” John pulls you away from the reeling occultist quickly.

“If it's a fight you want, a fight you shall have,” Jason spits blood.

The desk next to you explodes into shards of splinters but the rain of wood doesn't come. You look up to see John has conjured a glowing symbol above the two of you, shielding you.

“We don't want a fight, we just want the Everseed!” John yells.

“And I said no.”

All you can do is scramble away as the lamps start shattering, books fly off the shelves and the air crackles with magic. It's like the sharp whip sound of lightning as bolts of colour ricochet everywhere.

You're painfully aware how powerless you are in that moment. You can't help John at all, you just have to hide. You're behind a sofa, sheltering from the fallout as the two battle each other hard until the noises stop and you peek over the top.

John has Jason pinned by glowing yellow ropes around his limbs to the bookcase and it looks like it's costing him a tremendous effort to do so.

“Give it to me!” John snarls.

“You haven't won,” Jason laughs. “And you forgot to gag me. Gone gone the form of man-”

Jason's whole body starts morphing in front of your eyes. His build is becoming stockier, more muscular. His face is becoming broader, more boar like but with webbed ears that fan out from his skull. The skin is changing to a mottled green colour and the eyes....they burn bright red.

“-Arise the demon Etrigan!” it finishes in a coarse growl.

“Bollocks!” John cries as Etrigan rips out of the magical bonds.

“A pity John, an arrogant stance, your error gives me a greater chance,” Etrigan drops to the floor before he produces an enormous sword out of nowhere.

John ducks but barely.

You see a few shorn hairs float down in the space where he used to be. He nearly gets beheaded again but rolls backwards before blasting the demon off his feet. In doing so, he trips over a broken table and falls hard, whacking his head on the debris with a dull crack.

When he doesn't get up immediately, you have to make a decision. Etrigan is advancing back upon him at speed and John's defenceless.

You don't even hesitate to get in between the two, throwing your arms out wide to protect John. After all, you theorise, you weren't meant to be alive right now anyway. It was only a lot of magic that brought you back in the first place. If John had never crossed your path in that air raid shelter, you would've been flat out dead.

“Don't you dare touch him,” you say in your best commanding voice.

Etrigan stops, swinging his blade to rest on his shoulder, “Stand aside, dear lady, this is not your fight, only Constantine dies tonight.”

“If you kill him, you kill me too. Swamp Thing has vines around my heart and he'll crush it if we don't complete our....our quest.”

I mean if Etrigan was going to wear such medieval clothing, you figured he might respond to the language better.

“There is no honour in such an end, so to your quest we must attend. Alas, Jason disagrees, but it is not him that I shall appease. A damsel in distress stands here, and so your plight I must now hear. There is no need to look so nervous, I, Etrigan, am at your service.”

The demon bows to you and you panic, curtseying because you think it's the appropriate response. It seems to make him smile though.

“I'm John's....uh....paramour and Swamp Thing wanted me to be part of The Green but got angry that I had a demonic taint from John so sent us here to get the Everseed? Then he won't kill me.”

“To kill someone without power, a thorn in the side of that overgrown flower! There is no challenge in such a ploy, when it's Constantine he should destroy. You are innocent in all of this, and Swamp Thing should be remiss. We share a taint, a bond of kin, so now much to Jason's chagrin, I think it now only best, that I give you the seed to complete your quest. Go forth now and complete your plan, you've made a friend in Etrigan.”

“Thank you,” you pull John to his feet who's still pretty dazed with blood coating the back of his head. “Where is it?”

“Only Jason's knows its place and so I give him back his face. Do not be afraid, he won't cause harm, let's just say he's been disarmed.”

Etrigan grins before clearing his throat, “Gone gone O' Etrigan and rise again-”

Now he was contracting to a smaller size, turning pink in the flesh and finally Jason stood before you again, “-The form of man. Well well my dear, aren't you special? Etrigan doesn't normally care for Camelot's conventions on honour but you must have pleaded your case well.”

“Camelot?”

“I'm very old,” he raises an eyebrow in mirth. “And we share a body. Sometimes we rub off on one another. Seems we're switching personalities lately. Very well, I shall fetch the Everseed.”

He seems to pluck something that shimmers out of thin air before handing it to you but he grips your hand before you see a shadow of red creep across his eyes.

“What's wrong?” you ask in alarm.

“Etrigan says you're welcome to stay with us if you wanted a worthier prospect. He's taken quite a shine to you it seems. Not many people stand in the path of a demon without fear.”

“I've got my own occultist, sorry,” you steady John and pocket the Everseed in your shorts.

“It will end in disaster for you, you are aware?”

“Probably but what's worse than dying?”

“A great many things, my dear,” Jason's voice makes you shiver. “Be wary. Etrigan's offer stands if you ever need to flee. I'll give you a portal back to the bayou and you'll have to make your own way from there. Good luck.”

You half carry John through the portal and then his weight becomes too much as you fall into a patch of flowers. You don't think you can get him up, least of all drag him across the swamp so you put your hands on the earth and call out to Alec, hoping he'll hear and come find you.

The adrenalin you got during the battle between Jason and John was fading and exhaustion was rapidly catching up.

“I'm here, little one,” Alec's voice comes from behind you.

“I got it,” you present the Everseed to him.

“Then stand still whilst I remove my failsafe. This will be unpleasant.”

Like it wasn't unpleasant the first time. What he actually meant by it was that he touched your back and you threw up pieces of foliage until your throat burned and your stomach ached.

“It is done. You are free to go,” Alec places the Everseed within his own body.

“I need help. John hit his head and I can't carry him back. I don't know what to do. Please, I know you hate us but please.”

“I do not hate you. I am disappointed Constantine tricked me. I acted in anger. The sting of his many betrayals still lies fresh. You I have no quarrel with. You are an example of humanity at its best. I shall make you a boat to get you back to the main docks. From there, you are on your own.”

“Thank you,” you start dragging John who barely manages to walk before Alec picks him up himself and deposits him in the newly made boat.

You get in before it starts moving of its own accord again and you wave goodbye to Alec who gives you a cordial wave back before melting into the gloom.

“Are you okay?” you try to rouse John but he's still very out of it, barely focusing.

You touch his face, wishing you could help him and when emerald sparks skitter across your hand, you yelp and fall backwards. To your astonishment, John shakes his head and sits upright, feeling on the back of his head for the split in his skull and then he just stares at you in amazement.

“What the bloody hell were that?!” he cries. “It's gone! Me head is fixed!”

“I don't know,” you hold up your hands. “I don't know what happened.”

“Hold the phone,” John starts using his hand to scan you before grabbing one of yours and seeming to concentrate very hard. “Oh no way....you've got part of The Green in you!”

“I thought I wasn't compatible?!”  
“The demonic part isn't but the other parts of your soul are,” John knits his brows together. “You've not got a lot mind but you just accessed The Green to heal me.”

“I've got powers now?!”

“Apparently,” John puts his hand over his face before dragging it down. “Fucking hell. This is bizarre. I've never heard of a soul bonding with The Green and not becoming Miss Flower Power. Must be my influence.”

“But it's good right? I'm not gonna suddenly sprout begonias or anything, am I?”

“Nah, not unless you take any more of The Green in which shouldn't happen. Thanks, by the way, for saving me arse. I can't believe I forgot to take Jason's speech away.”

“If you did, I might not have convinced Etrigan to give us the seed. It worked out in the end.”

“Aye, it did. We're free now. We can go home and....and......”

“And what?” you prompt.

“I don't know. Erm.....do you....uh.....are we.....” he stammers, flushing a little.

“I mean you called me your girl already. I thought you'd just skipped the asking part,” you snort inelegantly. “Doesn't mean I'm moving into that shithole of a flat.”

“Right right,” John visibly relaxes. “I expect you've got a nicer place.”

“You're not moving in there either,” you laugh. “One step at a time, John. We've only been on one date.”

“That were a date, were it?” the cocky swagger is coming back now. “I thought it were just a booze up and an epic shagathon.”

“Stop being difficult. Yes, I'll be your girlfriend, John but we're not rushing things. When we get back, I'm going to go home, spend a night by myself and you can come pick me up in the morning for our next adventure.”

“Our next adventure? Blimey, you're a confident lass,” he laughs. “You're inspiring, you know? You make me wanna be braver, more selfless.”

“I mean I can't help the disaster part-”

“-Oi!”

“-But I'm glad I can be that person for you. Come on, we're nearly at the docks. Let's go home. I'm craving a carvery.”

“Gee, I might actually be in love with you,” John grins. “Home it is.”

**

Once you got home, you met up with Chas who could actually see you now.

You think he was quite astonished at the change in his friend because he kept smiling broadly. He took you to your house and after John fished out your personal possessions from his impossibly deep coat pockets, you turned the key and went inside after waving goodbye.

You showered, changed into your own clothes and got into your bed, feeling disconnected from the items around you, the cameras and the lighting equipment. It was like slotting back into a life you didn't fit into any more.

You didn't _want_ to fit into it any more.

John had opened your eyes to a whole world that was existing under your very nose and you never wanted to close them again. He'd also gotten under your skin in a way, this grumpy occultist who was mellowing out. You couldn't wait to see how the future would go.

Bright and early in the morning, there was a knock at the door and you got up from reading on the sofa to open it. John was there with flowers and a bag of groceries.

“Morning, darlin',” he has the biggest grin on his face. “It were so weird sleeping without you being there. Used to it now.”

He pulls you in for a long kiss.

“You look gorgeous,” he sets the flowers down. “Nice house too.”

“What's with the bag?” you ask.

“Oh, this is ingredients for a roast. Carvery is nice n' all but homemade is best and I'm a dab hand at it. Thought I'd cook for you.”

“I didn't know you could cook.”

“I'm full of surprises,” he winks, putting the food away in the fridge. “Now, how about I show you a cockatrice today?”

“That's not a euphemism, is it?”

He bursts out laughing, “Nah, luv, it's a giant serpent slash chicken that kills you if it breathes on you.”

“Oh right! I mean....I'll take the euphemism too.”

“Will you now?” he cocks an eyebrow up before pouncing on you with a flurry of messy kisses that you meet. “Then show me where the bedroom is and we'll have some fun before we go.”

As he carries you up the stairs to fuck your brains out, you realise how much more alive you feel, how much more emotion you have. You thought you were living your life to the fullest before...you definitely were now.

“I love you,” you gasp as he fucks you through your second orgasm.

“Fuck me, didn't think you'd blurt it out first,” he laughs. “I nearly said it a few minutes ago.”

“Life is short around you, I'll say it while I can.”

“I love a bird with gallows humour,” John kisses you fiercely. “I'm so glad you died and haunted me. I love you too.”


End file.
